


self reflection

by sinspiration



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Trans, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, a lot of feelings, also there is a lot of terrible French, being trans isn't easy, some good some bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinspiration/pseuds/sinspiration
Summary: Bitty is in Annie’s, bent over his textbooks and wondering, not for the first time, why he decided to take French as a language (oh yes, it’s because so many old recipes are written in French, he’s going abroad there to study food history, can’t wait for the summer; half of fall and then winter semester until he goes, but that doesn’t help him now does it) , when he hears someone clear their throat.“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”Oh boy.Eric doesn’t even bother lifting up his head. “Sorry, not a girl and not interested.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea. And then I was doomed.

Bitty is in Annie’s, bent over his textbooks and wondering, not for the first time, why he decided to take French as a language (oh yes, it’s because so many old recipes are written in French, he’s going abroad there to study food history, can’t wait for the summer; half of fall and then winter semester until he goes, but that doesn’t help him _now_ does it) , when he hears someone clear their throat.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Oh boy.

Eric doesn’t even bother lifting up his head. “Sorry, not a girl and not interested.” He’s been on hormones for over a year now, but he’s been cursed with a baby face that’ll probably never change even with the fat distribution. It’s… a good thing in certain circumstances, but this is, sadly, not even close to the first time a guy has used a line on him. Sometimes they apologize which in itself _sucks_ (Sorry dude! No homo, right?), but usually they get… upset.

At least they’re in a public place. The most the guy can do is curse him out and then leave.

There is a moment of silence and then, “I uh, I didn’t think you were? It’s just that everywhere else is full.”

Now Eric does look up; he’d come to Annie’s hours ago, and it does indeed look like it’s filled up. He looks at the stranger and immediately has to clamp down on the fluttering in his heart, because _tall_ , tall and broad and handsome and dark-haired and blue-eyed and

“Um!” Bitty squeaks. And even with his deepened voice, it comes out high. “I, y-yeah, you can sit.”

“Thanks.”

He pulls out the seat and then sets his backpack on the floor before bending over to rifle through it. He comes up with a fat textbook, some highlighters and a pen, and a notebook. Bitty doesn’t stare, and tries to go back to his work.

He’s currently working on “aller,” which means to go. And the conjugation of this word honestly makes him want to cry. “Jey vase,” he mutters. “Too vahs. Ee vah. Noose all-ohs. Voose All-eez. Ees vant.” He thinks he hears someone choking, but when he glances up, his table companion is completely concentrated on his work. Bitty goes back to quietly sounding out his vocab. “Jeh vase al-ooh park--why do they keep adding letters that don’t have any _sound.”_

“Um, actually, English has a lot of words where letters are silent.”

Bitty looks up, startled. “What?”

His table companion shifts. “Um. English. Has a lot of silent letters? Like plough. Or through. Or any word that has ough in it, really.”

Bitty gapes. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

“Also um. It’s pronounced like ‘oh’.”

“It’s--what?” What is going on.

“Au. Like je vais au parc. I go to the park. The au is pronounced like oh.”

“You speak French?” Bitty says dumbly. It’s all he can come up with.

“I grew up speaking it, yeah.” The guy rubs the back of his head. “Do you maybe want some help? Only your pronunciation could use some work.”

Bitty is immediately wary. Random strangers don’t just offer to help him study. _Especially_ handsome ones who are exactly Bitty’s type. “I’m still not a girl,” he says.

“Right. You said that before? I’m not one either. Is that okay?”

And Bitty is only so strong. “Okay, yes, yes, please. French is the worst. Um, no offense.”

The guy’s lips quirk up. “None taken. It really kind of is. I’m Jack by the way.”

“Eric! Eric Bittle.” He doesn’t usually give his nickname out to people he’s just met; it’d been given to him by some of his friends after he started to transition and “stayed itty-bitty.” While they call him it often enough that it stuck and with so much love that he likes it, it’s still personal.  He holds out a hand, because it’s only polite. Jack shakes it. His grip is warm and firm and Bitty is _perfectly calm._

“Nice to meet you. You were working on aller, right?”

And lord, Jack actually seems serious about the French thing. Also the word sounds so different when he says it. “Yeah. Ahl-er.”

Jack winces, and Bitty flushes. “That bad, huh?”

“Well… what words do you already know?”

“S'il-vous-plaît, Merci, Bonjour, and Tarte.”

“Tarte?”

“It means pie.”

Jack looks confused. “I know it means pie.”

“Right, of course you do, sorry--”

“No, it’s okay. That’s… that’s a good start?”

Bitty feels his cheeks go even hotter. “And other basics. Colors and stuff. Rooj, blue, vurt, jah-oonee--” Jack is biting his lip and looks like he might actually explode. Bitty stops. “I’m really bad. The pronunciation really gets me. My tongue is made for Southern drawl, not French.”

“Where are you from?”

“Georgia.”

“Ah. Well, why don’t we start with colors then. Just how to pronounce them right. Um. Please.”

Bitty can’t help it, he has to laugh. Jack looks like he’s in physical pain. “If you can put up with me. I’ll make you something for all this, I promise. Do you like pie? I make a mean pie. Apple? Pecan? Seriously, pick a flavor.”

“You can make a pecan pie on campus?”

Bitty freezes. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Jack’s brow furrows. “I asked how you make a pecan pie--”

“No, no stop. Say it again. Pecan.”

“Uh, pecan.”

“ _Pecan.”_

“Pecan? What--”

“No, no, no, stop, it’s _pecan.”_

“Bittle,” Jack sighs, “Do you want the French help, or do you want to yell at me about pecan pie.”

Bitty clamps his mouth shut and stares down at his notes. “Um. Yes. Help please. Sorry. And um, I know some guys on the hockey team who live in a house? So they let me use their oven if I provide them with baked goods. I mean, I can use the student kitchens too but--”

“Wait a minute,” Jack says, eyes widening, “You’re _Bitty?”_

“I… uh…” Bitty doesn’t know what to do.

Jack must sense how uncomfortable Bitty is, because he quickly explains, “I’m captain of the Samwell Hockey Team. The guys have been making a fuss over you since last year, but I never seemed to be home when you were over.”

“You’re Jack Zimmermann?” Bitty squeaks. Because of course, of course that’s who has randomly offered him French help. He’s heard _stories_ about the infamous hockey captain, who works hard and plays harder and has a team that’s fiercely protective of him. Now that he’s actually paying attention instead of blushing down at his notes, he recognizes the face that he’s only ever seen in hockey gear. “I mean, yes, sorry, I--”

“How do you know the guys?” Jack asks, saving Bitty from his stuttering.

“Oh.” That’s easy, at least. “Ransom and Holster run the safewalk campus program. I’ve known them since I was a freshman. They help me out a lot. Once Ransom even walked me all the way to Murder Stop n’ Shop and back, so of course I had to make him a pie, and then I met Johnson, who told me to stick around because of my story arc?”

“Johnson’s like that,” Jack says, sounding fond.

“Right, yeah. Anyway I just sort of… cleaned up the kitchen out of habit and then before you know it I’m meeting Shitty and Lardo and I’m over every week after biology to whip up baked goods. Well, this semester it’s my English class. I’m glad y'all like what I make.”

“What time’s your English class?”

“Um, Tuesdays twelve to three.”

Jack nods. “Don’t know about last year, but that’s why we’ve never run into each other now. I’ve got Nineteenth Century America from two to six, and after I usually grab some food and then head to the rink.”

“Oh. Um. That’s nice.”

“I’m a history major,” Jack says. It sounds like a prompt.

“I’m undecided right now, but I’m thinking of focusing on food history. Somehow.”

“Okay. So… why French?”

So of course Bitty has to explain about his study abroad next summer, and Jack nods and acts like he’s _interesting_ , and then they do get around to working on some actual French, and Jack gently teases him about his pronunciation some more, and before Bitty knows it it’s been another hour.

“I’ve got to get going,” Jack says, checking the time on his phone. “I usually squeeze in some rink time now.”

“Of course,” Bitty says. “Thank you for um, for helping me out. I really appreciate it.”

Jack nods and puts away his stuff and stands, before shifting on his feet. “Do you want to do it again?”

No. There is no possible way that Jack Zimmermann is offering what Bitty thinks he’s offering. “Excuse me?”

Jack clears his throat. “Studying French. Do you want to do it again? I could help you out.”

And Bitty would be incredibly stupid to not take Jack up on his offer. And that’s only _partially_ because Jack is easy on the eyes. “That would be great! Thank you.”

They exchange numbers and make a tentative study time later in the week, and then Jack waves goodbye and heads out, leaving Bitty speechless at his table and staring down at the new contact entry on his phone.

 

-

 

The next time Bitty meets Jack, it is not for studying French.

Basically he has another nightmare about football players trying to… touch him, and is up at five am. Normally he doesn’t go to the rink until six-thirty, but since he’s up he might as well, right? So he heads over, trying not to feel too self-conscious about walking by himself this early in the morning. That’s probably not something he’ll ever get over, that ingrained fear.

When he gets to the rink, he’s surprised to find that the lights are all on--and more than that, there are already people there.

Namely the entire hockey team.

They’re doing suicides, and there is a lot of loud groaning and complaining, and Jack is the leader of the pack. Even from behind the glass, Bitty can see the fierce look of concentration.

Shitty looks over and catches sight of him, just standing there with his skates slung over his shoulder, and he pants out, “Bitty! Fuck man, what’re you doing here? It’s like the ass-crack of dawn. There is no dawn!”

There is a moment of chaos as everyone on the team swivel around on their skates to look at him, some of them skating up to the glass. Bitty flushes and fights the instinct to hide. “Nothing. Y’all keep on doing what you’re doing. I’ll just come back later.”

“Hold up,” and Holster is pulling off his bucket, “You’re the guy who’s got the rink reserved at six-thirty?”

Right, he’s never actually _told_ any of them he skates. It hadn’t come up. “Yes?”

“Guys!” Jack barks. “Back to practice! And you, Bittle,”

Bitty freezes. “Y-yeah?”

“...I guess you can use part of the ice. We don’t need the whole rink.”

“Fuck yeah!” someone cries. “Shorter suicides!”

Jack turns back to the team. “Shorter suicides means you can do _more_ of them, doesn’t it?”

“Aw man, no, what--”

“Let’s go!” He directs the team to part of the rink and moves one of the goals up, leaving roughly a third of the ice free for Bitty to use.

Bitty laces up his skates, trying not to think about the fact that an entire hockey team is on the ice with him. He likes most of the guys, but normally he gets them in smaller doses. Ransom or Holster (or both) walking him to his dorm at midnight. Three or four at a time as they pop in and out of the Haus. And then this year it was also Dex overhearing Bitty trying to coax Betsy to work and coming in to fix her. Chowder, well, being generally enthusiastic. Bitty has learned a lot about the Sharks.

Anyway, the point is that it’s very different from all of them. At once. Being big, and loud, and right there. Bitty is used to performing, used to a crowd, but this feels different.

And--it’s early in the morning. He usually skates by himself. That’s why he reserves private ice time. So he’s just wearing a sports bra. And it’d be nuts to try to skate while wearing a binder, it’s not like he’s all that big anyway but--

But it’s okay. He can do this. He plugs into his music and skates onto the ice. This is fine. He’s fine.

He can’t do it.

His throat locks up as Nicki Manaj raps in his ear, and he skates in a slow circle before turning and trying to skate off the ice before someone notices that he’s leaving. And he feels bad, because they all said hello, and Jack even moved the goal for him but--but--

He unlaces his skates as fast as he can and hurries out of the rink. He’ll just wait til six-thirty, his normal time. He can wait for an hour. It’s fine. He’s fine.

 

-

 

When he finally forces himself back to the rink, very ready to just lose himself in skating and try to get rid of his personal frustration, Jack is still there. His hair is wet, so he’s probably freshly showered and that is absolutely nothing Bitty needs to be thinking about.

“Oh,” Bitty says, and then louder, “Morning.” He fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest, but he does hunch over a little, trying to disguise that part of him. If only wearing binders while exercising wasn’t a _terrible idea._ “Um. Did you still need the ice?”

Jack shakes his head, frowning. “Was just wondering if you were okay. You, uh, you left.”

“Yeah, I… didn’t want to disturb practice. I didn’t mind waiting til you guys were done.”

“Okay.” Jack looks as though he’s about to say something else, but in the end he just stands, grabbing up a large dufflebag. “I’ll see you later, right? For French.”

Bitty had forgotten that they’d made plans for that afternoon. “Right. Right, yes. French. Okay.”

“I’ll see you around then.”

“Have a… good morning.”

Jack nods and heads out.

Bitty stares after his retreating back until Jack’s out of sight, before bending down to start lacing up his skates.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The only things I know about hockey are what I learned from everyone on the team! I’m a figure skater! We move in different circles.” Literally. He can’t imagine going without a toe pick.

“Je mange une pomme.”

“Jeh man-gee oon pahm.”

“Je _mange_ une pomme”

“Jeh mange oon pam.”

“Je mange une _pomme.”_

Bitty thunks his head down to the table. “I am so sorry. I’m wastin’ your time.”

“Honestly, at this point I just want you to get it for the sake of the language.”

Bitty looks up. Jack is failing to hide a smile. Bitty narrows his eyes. “At least I can say the word pecan correctly. And that’s English.”

“Are we really going to go back to that?”

“Ugh, I just… I’m so bad at languages. At school. It’s never been my thing. I’m only here because--” it was my way out. I could learn how to be myself here. “Well, my parents wanted me to go to college.” That much was true. “I can’t skate forever.”

“I know what you mean,” Jack says and right, hockey player. Bitty keeps forgetting. Which is so silly, because he’s been to _so_ many Samwell games in order to cheer everyone on. He feels pretty stupid that he hadn’t figured out who Jack was when they’d first met. “I’m going to get signed after I’m done with school but… I wanted to be able to do something else too.”

“Get signed?”

“To go pro.”

“Oh. I thought that was… really hard to do? Not that I don’t think you could!”

Jack shrugs. “My dad’s Bad Bob. People’ve been expecting me to go pro since pretty much before I was born.”

“Who’s Bad Bob?”

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t know?”

“The only things I know about hockey are what I learned from everyone on the team! I’m a figure skater! We move in different circles.” Literally. He can’t imagine going without a toe pick.

“Yeah,” Jack says after a minute. “You skate.”

“Figure skate, yeah.” He’s competed nationally and internationally and has won... several gold medals, including ISU Juniors twice. He scored a silver in the youth olympic games when he was sixteen. At seventeen he placed at the Grand Prix. He’s good enough that he’s earned prize money and done several ISU-approved sponsorship deals--enough to pay for the college of his choice even with the actual expense of skating. He’d been scouted for women's singles at the last winter olympics. But he just couldn’t do it.

He doesn’t regret it. He’s allowed to be himself here. And he still keeps in practice though, even without a coach. He’s hoping… maybe he’ll be allowed to compete in the men’s division. Someday.

“You must really love it, to reserve rink time at six-thirty every morning.”

“Well, you know. Got to keep in practice.”

Jack nods. “You’re good, aren’t you.”

“...well, I’m certainly better at it than I am at French.”

“Right. Speaking of, je mange une pomme. You’re getting it right. Today.”

Bitty sighs, but makes a valiant effort.

 

-

 

“Yo Bits!” Holster says, the next time Bitty is over. He’s making mini apple pies, and is planning on bringing some to the next tutoring session with Jack. That he has in an hour. Because Jack keeps offering and well, Bitty’s not gonna say _no._

“Yeah?”

Holster puts a hand on Bitty’s back and leans down to look at what he’s doing. Bitty might tense up, but he makes himself relax again. Holster is one of the safest guys he knows. Even if he’s an actual giant. “More mini pie? Swawesome!”

“Mm-hm. Apple.”

“Nice!”

“Did you want something else?” Bitty asks, since Holster still lingers.

“Yeah! Heard you finally met my man Jack! It’s about time, bro.”

“You could’ve just introduced us last year.” Bitty points out. “Or at literally any haus party.” Bitty hasn’t gone to many, because the push and shove of a lot of loud, drinking bodies is… not really his thing, but still.

“Johnson got upset when Shitty said he was gonna,” Holster says. “And you listen to Johnson. Besides, Jack never comes down for haus parties. He holes up in his room and, I dunno, looks at maps or something.”

“Maps?”

Holster shrugs again. “He likes maps.”

“Oh. Well… there’s nothing wrong with maps.”

“He’s a weird dude,” Holster laughs.

“He’s not weird,” Bitty says, the words leaving his mouth before he can think about maybe why they shouldn’t. “He’s, um…” Okay, Jack might be a little weird. “Well. It’s not like being weird is a bad thing.”

“True that. Now I’ve gotta go check on Ransom. He’s been crying over orgo for like twenty minutes, and that’s the max he’s allowed to worry about one subject to that degree.”

Bitty nods. Ransom’s a coral reef of hockey bro, frat star, and science nerd, wrapped up in a 4.0 gpa. “Let him know that he’ll have pie in about fifteen, okay? And I can whip up a batch of those chocolate sugar cookies he likes.”

“Sweet! Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

Holster leaves to go bound up the stairs and Bitty turns back to finishing the pies, humming to himself as he bends over to pop them in the oven.

“Oh,” from behind him.

Bitty jumps and turns around. It’s Jack. He’s got a bag slung over one shoulder, and a camera around his neck. It’s a nice DLSR; Bitty knows enough from just doing his vlog that he can tell. “It’s not Tuesday,” he says.

“What? Oh, right, well, I don’t only come over on Tuesdays? I--I wanted to bring something to when I met you today.”

“Oh,” Jack says again. He doesn’t seem inclined to say anything else.

“Did--I can get out of your way if you need the kitchen. I just--the pies’ll take like fifteen minutes but--”

“Just gonna grab a Gatorade,” Jack says, coming fully into the kitchen and heading to the fridge. He grabs out a bottle of blue and cracks it open. “Tarte, huh?”

Bitty flushes. “Excuse me, Mr. Zimmerman, tarte is a perfectly reasonable thing to have in one’s vocabulary.””

Jack chuckles. “What kind are you making?”

“Apple. It’s a good ol’ go-to.”

“Sounds good.” Jack leans back against the fridge, facing Bitty. He looks… soft, with the camera around his neck. “Fifteen minutes, eh?”

“Yeah?”

Jack nods. “Might as well go over some more vocabulary, then.”

Oh, yes, right, Jack Zimmerman is a _sadist._ Also Bitty is kind of trapped, and what is he supposed to do, politely decline?

So he sighs. “Okay, okay, that’s a good idea.”

 

-

 

After the pies are done, Jack ends up just walking over with Bitty to Annie’s. He keeps the camera around his neck, and occasionally asks Bitty if he doesn't mind stopping, so he can take a picture of something.

This leads to Bitty watching in fascinated horror as Jack approaches two _geese_ and squats down to click the shutter a few times. Bitty holds his breath until Jack is back beside him and well away from the death-beaks.

“How did you _survive?”_

Jack rubs the back of his neck. “They’re not so bad.”

“They would murder you and your children if given half the chance.”

Jack shrugs. They continue to walk.

“You grab a table and set up,” Jack says, once they reach the cafe. “I’ll get us drinks.”

“Oh, of course--” Bitty’s in the middle of pulling out his wallet when Jack just...walks away and joins the back of the line.

Bitty stands there blinking for a minute, before eventually just going to find a table.

That cafe is pretty full, but he does manage to score a table in the back, and immediately covers it with his notecards and textbook to claim it.

Then he sighs, because he might as _well_ go over sentence structure while he waits for Jack.

A shadow falls over the table and he looks up expecting to see Jack and--it’s not Jack, though it is a guy that Bitty recognizes. Chad something. All Bitty really knows about him is that he plays lacrosse and that the guys at the Haus don’t like him very much.

“This seat taken?”

“Yes,” Bitty says, trying to sound firm. “Sorry, my study buddy’s just getting drinks.”

Probably-Chad raises an eyebrow. “Whoa, thought you were a girl, dude. My bad.”

Bitty swallows. “S’okay.”

“You really look like one, man,” Chad laughs. “Maybe try to bulk up a bit!”

“Right.” Bitty grits his teeth. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. “I’ll get right on that.”

“It’s a good thing your voice tipped me off,” Chad says, because he still won’t _leave,_ “Otherwise I might’ve, you know… no homo, right?”

“Mm-hm.” Go away.

“You look kind of familiar though.”

“Oh?” Go _away._

“Yeah, have I seen you around campus or something?”

“Excuse me.”

Chad looks over at Jack, who’s holding two mugs. He sort of--shoulders Chad out of the way to set them down on the table. Then he turns back to Chad. “Sorry, did I interrupt?”

Chad immediately turns to leave. Bitty thinks he hears a muttered _“Fucking hockey players,”_ as he goes.

“Oh dear.”

“Was he bothering you?” Jack asks, pushing one of the mugs towards Bitty.

Bitty takes it. And realizes, surprised, that it’s full of the pumpkin spice latte he might’ve made a fuss over the last time they were over at Annie’s. “Um. No?” He tries to breathe. “How much do I owe you for--”

Jack waves him away. “You can get next time.”

“Oh. Okay.” Next time. Next time sounds good.

“So I know we went over vocabulary at the house, but we should focus on that oral exam that’s coming up.”

Bitty sighs. “Yeah. For all the good it’s going to do. I’m going to fail, I know I am.”

“You’re pronunciation is getting a lot better,” Jack says.

“You’re sweet.”

“Come on, go ahead. My name is Eric Bittle.”

Bitty sighs again. “Bon-jor jeh maple Eric Bittle.”

“Don’t revert,” Jack says, frowning. “You know how to say all those words correctly.”

“Bonjour je m’ayple Eric Bittle.”

“Again. Bonjour je m’appelle Eric Bittle.”

And these are why, while he looks forward to these sessions, he also hates them. Because he’s never been good about changing how he speaks, not even when it really mattered to him, and this just makes him feel so stupid. “Bonjour je m’appelle Eric Bittle.”

Jack smiles encouragingly at him. “See? Just like that. You got it.”

“One sentence down, five to go,” Bitty mumbles.

“You’ve got to get your head in this, Bittle. Otherwise you’ll never get it.”

“I’m trying! I am!”

“So? Next sentence.”

They get through ‘I speak a little bit of French,’ ‘I like to cook,’ and ‘I like figure skating,’ but Bitty gets stuck on ‘I go to Samwell University.’

Because for the life of him and all of Jack’s trying, his accent keeps getting the better of him.

“j'étudie à l'université Samwell.”

"Jay-ehtudi ah la-univeristy Samwell"

Jack sighs.

Bittle bits his lip and tries again. “Zeh-tudy ah le-ooniversity Samwell.”

And again.

And again.

“Why don’t we take a break,” Jack suggests. “Do you want something to eat?”

Bitty stops clutching at his hair in frustration and glaring at his notes to look up at Jack. They’d had a mini pie each but… “Um, sure?”

“Okay. You want to get something here, or…?”

“Oh! Uh, here is good. Unless you want to be done! That’s fine. And thank you again for all your help--”

“What would you like?” Jack interrupts. Then he grins. “Tell me in French. You know all your pastries by now.”

Bitty can feel himself redden, but he garbles out some amalgamation of ‘please buy for me a scone’.

Jack nods. “I’ll be right back,” he says, getting out of his seat and heading toward the counter again.

Okay, Bitty decides, Holster was right; Jack is a weird dude.

But Bitty was right too. Being weird isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

 

-

 

He’s in the library, working on his English paper, and Bitty has made a solemn vow that he’s not allowed to leave until it’s finished.

It’s not easy and he keeps getting distracted by twitter, or doodling ideas for his next vlog, or looking up recipes he wants to try, but no, no he made a vow, so he steels himself and turns off his phone, turns off the internet connection on his laptop, and really digs in his heels.

When he finally finishes it’s about nine pm and he’s very ready for dinner and maybe a skate because of all the pent-up energy, but it’s also late enough and dark enough that… well.

But that’s no reason to call Ransom or Holster. Even if they’ve given him both their cell numbers and he’s part of the hockey team’s group chat. He doesn’t need to bother anyone.

So he gathers up his stuff and heads down the stairs, fully intending to just walk across campus as fast as he can to grab dinner.

There are still people wandering around, but it is dark, and every time he passes a group of guys, or even one lone one, he grips his bag strap tighter and ducks his head and maybe speeds up.

He does get to the mess hall in one piece. He breathes out and heads over to swipe his card to get in, then grabs a tray.

He’s got another dilemma when he finishes eating though. Does he go back to the dorms to grab his skates and head to the rink, or does he just go to to the dorms and stay there. The rink isn’t all that close, and if he goes to skate now, it’d be well after ten by the time he finishes up. And that really is pretty late to be wandering the campus by himself.

In the end he decides not to risk it and go straight to the dorms. One nice thing about Samwell; he requested, and then was assigned, a single because of his “special circumstances.” As far as his parents knew, he’d just splurged for one, but either way, his room was his own, and it wasn’t huge, but it was good enough for him.

It was also good enough to at least do some of his ballet exercises, and then he settles in to stretch while he catches up on twitter.

 **kissandcryplease:** You ever worry that you have a fear you’ll never get over?

 **Inabrow1:** @kissandcryplease Oh no! What’s going on?

Bitty sighs. None of the people he knows outside of Samwell… knows. He met Ina at world juniors and she’s a good friend; a lot of the people he’s met over the years are very nice.

But he’s never been gladder that he has kept his vlogs separate from his skating.

 **kissandcryplease:** @inabrow1 nothing big! Worried that I’ll lose my russian splits.

 **Jwirey:** @inabrow1 @kissandcryplease Perish the thought! Your russian splits are beautiful! Don’t let college ruin you :(

 **kissandcryplease:** @jwirey: @inabrow1 haha, worry not, I’m keeping in practice.

 **Jwirey:** @inabrow1 @kissandcryplease That’s my girl! I’ll see you at the next olympics. You better be there this time!!

Bitty swallows down the lump in his throat and rolls from his right side split to his left.

 **kissandcryplease:** @jwirey: @inabrow1 yeah, we’ll see about that. I guess I SHOULD go to beat the skates off you.

 **Jwirey:** @inabrow1 @kissandcryplease :( :( :(

 **Inabrow1:** @kissandcryplease @jwirey *thumbs up*

Bitty gets off twitter after that, and spends the rest of the evening watching old episodes of The Great British Baking Show until he goes to bed.

 

-

 

When he gets to the rink at six-thirty for his usual time, a few guys on the hockey team are still lingering, cleaning up pucks, putting away equipment.

“Bitty!” Chowder says, skating over. “Hi! What are you doing here? Are you here to skate?”

“It’s an ice rink,” Dex says dryly. “Yes, probably he’s here to skate.”

“Oh right! Holster said you skate here at every morning?”

“Yup,” Bitty says, starting to lace up his skates. It also gives him the excuse to hunch over. “I’ll stay out of your way til y’all are finished up.”

“That’s okay! We’re almost done. The ice is pretty clear.” Chowder gestures at the rink. While they were talking, the rest of the pucks have been picked up, the goals put away.

“Oh,” Bitty says. “Well. Um. Thank you.”

Chowder grins and nods, and Bitty slowly steps onto the ice as the rest of the hockey team hustle to get off and unlace their own skates.

So he has an audience. Again. And no real excuse or reason to just leave.

He takes a deep breath and tries to block them out, focusing on himself, on his songs, on the ice, and skates a few laps. The more he moves the easier it gets, until he feels loose enough to start on his warm-up routine.

He doesn’t look over to the side where the team is. Out of sight, out of mind. Besides, they’re probably already gone.

Bitty starts on his spins and his jumps, getting into the more complicated movements, the ones he’d practiced till his feet bled, so ones he’s going to _keep_ damn it. He doesn’t have quads yet, but he’s also working hard to keep all his flexibility. He wasn’t lying when he said that he didn’t want to lose his Russian splits.

He moves from a layback spin to a haircutter to a Biellmann, lands, then turns into a pancake spin, and once he comes up for air, he registers the sound of applause.

Bitty turns towards the stands. Roughly half the team is still there. Most of them are clapping enthusiastically.

“That was awesome, bro!” Holster calls.

“Fucking A!” from Shitty.

“Wow!! Bitty that was amazing!”

Bitty rubs the back of his neck and again fights the urge to hide. _Act normal_ he tells himself furiously. _They know you and they like you and they--don’t care that you’ve got a chest right now._

“Thanks,” he ends up saying, skating a little closer. “Uh, y’all didn’t have to stay.”

Nursey shrugs. “Glad we did though. That was really cool, man.”

“Thanks,” Bitty says again.

He hears someone snort and turns, wide-eyed, to look at Jack, who says, “Yeah, Bittle. You’re definitely better at skating than you are at French.”

Bitty knows he’s blushing now, but he can’t help but feel a little pleased.

 

-

 

After he takes off his skates, they all make noise about him joining them for breakfast but. Well. It’s one thing to wear his sports bra while skating and… having an accidental audience. It’s quite another to go anywhere _but_ the rink and his dorm without his binder.

He tries to beg off, say he’s got to put his skates away. Everyone nods at that, because you take care of your skates.

“You headed to the mess after?” Dex asks.

“Oh sure,” Bitty says. “I can meet you guys there, if you want?”

“I’ll walk you back to the dorms,” Jack says, out of nowhere.

Bitty looks up at him. “Um. Okay?”

Ransom and Holster both nod. “Good idea, bro,” from Ransom. “Some of the weird ones are out at dawn.”

Bitty ducks his head. He wishes he didn’t feel like this. Didn’t have to worry so much.

“Which way?” Jack asks.

“T-this way.”

Jack nods and they wave goodbye to the other guys before starting off.

“Thanks for walking me back,” Bitty mumbles. He’s carrying his bag in front of him. Holding it there helps.

“No problem.”

“Right.”

And then silence. Jack doesn’t seem to expect conversation or anything. He’s just there.

It’s nice.

 

-

 

They do join the others for breakfast. Even with the fifteen minute round-trip, most of the guys are still there. Hockey players eat a _lot._ They very loudly wave Jack and Bitty over, and Bitty hurries to them, Jack walking at a much more sedate pace. Though he does tell them to quiet down a little once he gets to the table.

Bitty feels much more at ease now that he’s wearing his binder--

\--Jack hadn’t followed him into his room. He’d leaned against the wall outside and said he’d wait for Bitty to come out. Jack was--

\--and he’s famished after skate and nerves, so he fills up a plate quickly and then sits down. He mostly eats in silence and lets the conversations flit over his head, but then he hears, “...right, Bittle?” and jerks up.

“Sorry, what?”

Jack and Ransom are both looking at him. “I said you were getting a lot better at French,” Jack says.

Ransom grins. “I’ve heard you crying over it enough. Glad you’re getting better!”

Ransom has _absolutely no right_ to talk about crying over school, and Bitty says as much.

“Harsh,” Ransom winces, as Holster laughs, reaching across the table for a fist bump. Bitty obliges, smiling.

The conversation returns to a mish-mash of hockey, classes, and Winter Screw and who is taking who. Ransom and Holster and Chowder all have dates, Shitty and Lardo are going together, and Jack, Dex, and Nursey don’t have anyone yet, so the conversation mostly centers around Random and Holster trying to set the three of them up with other people.

Basically it’s Jack rolling his eyes at them, Dex blushing and loudly saying he can find his own dates, thanks, and Nursey nodding every so often at something Ransom says, but making no commitments.

Bitty is blissfully left alone about it, and he is very, very glad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In hindsight, Bitty should have guessed that it was only a matter of time before Ransom and Holster start making noise about getting him a date for winter screw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER WAS A NIGHTMARE. For a reason you will soon see.

In hindsight, Bitty should have guessed that it was only a matter of time before Ransom and Holster start making noise about getting him a date for winter screw. “We’ll find you the perfect lady!” Ransom says, slinging an arm over Bitty’s shoulder. It’s a lot of physical contact, but at least Bitty knows that Ransom would  _ never-- _

Still, it’s. It’s hard. For a number of reasons.

So he prepares himself as best he can and then asks Shitty if he can talk to him.

“Sure bro,” Shitty says, leaning on the kitchen counter. “What’s up.”

Bitty wipes his hands on his pants. “Actually I--could we talk outside?”

Shitty nods. “Alright. Lemme go get dressed.” 

Bitty grabs his own coat and checks his pockets for his notecards, then waits nervously until Shitty comes back downstairs.

They end up walking for about ten minutes before Bitty works up his courage enough to stop in front of a bench.

“So,” he says, as Shitty sits down. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a while now, but all this hoopla with winter screw brought things to a head, so to speak.”

“Dude, you can tell me anything.”

And that’s why Bitty is doing this with Shitty. He’s pretty sure Shitty would never judge him for… for both things he’s about to say. He breathes and looks back to his notecards.

“But it’s not like I wouldn’t have told you were it not for screw! Y’all are some of my best friends. Um, let’s see…” he shuffles his cards trying to find his point again.

Shitty notices. “...wait are those  _ index cards?” _

“But sometimes it’s hard to tell friends things that--well, you always knew, but took you...some time to come to terms with...and finding a good time and place is always so tricky, you know? I mean, even after they were accepting of...of one important part of you, this is something layered on top of that which a lot of people consider…taboo, and how are you supposed to tell them? At a Haus party? Should you draft a powerpoint? Sky writing?”

“Bitty!”

Bitty sighs. He can do this. He can do this. “I guess what I’m trying to say is--I’m gay. Even with--even with--I’m a boy. I’m a boy, and I’m gay.”

“Oh. Cool, bro!”

“Wow.” Bitty breathes out. He can’t quite believe it. “That was the first time I’ve ever said those words out loud. To anyone. To  _ myself. _ Those exact words.”

“Well, thanks for trusting me with the moment, man! ‘preciate it.”

“Wow.”

“Yup.”

“Why the hell did that take over a year?”

“Meh, everyone goes at their own pace, you now? No rush. It’s pretty scary.” Shitty pats the place next to him on the bench. 

Bitty sits. “Maybe I  _ was _ scared, you know? I haven’t had the best experience with sports teams. I never um, I never wanted their attention. But then you guys were all so nice to me even after… even after I told y’all about not being a girl--” he’d burst into tears last winter screw, when Ransom and Holster had started making noise about him being a catch and that they’d definitely find a guy who would treat him like a lady. He’d heard it enough times and… and at the college where things were supposed to be  _ different-- _ and maybe it had been because he’d just started hormones and had gotten his hair cut, had been working so hard, but trying to correct pronouns still made it hard for him to breath and that had nothing to do with his new binder…

Anyway. It hadn’t had been how he’d hoped to come out to his new friends, but they took it in stride and switched pronouns immediately and Johnson had ruffled his hair and said,  _ “Knew you could do it buddy, don’t worry, things get better for you.” _ and every single one of them, Lardo included, had offered to beat up anyone who bothered him. 

He’d started crying again, but for a completely different reason. 

Bitty was a nickname he was proud of. But even so.

“...anyway, I didn’t know what y’all would do.”

“For fuck’s sake, did you think we were gonna beat you up or something?”

“Well.”

“Bits!”

“I know, I know--”

“Jesus Christ, we’re your fucking friends! Ransom and Holster literally spend half their lives looking out for you. We all do. Even Jack, now that he actually knows who you are.”

“Yeah.”

“We have your back, man. Always.”

“Thanks, Shitty.” And Bitty isn’t brave, so he puts off what else he wants to say. “You know, Shitty, you’re good at this! You really just took the whole coming out thing in stride. You could be a peer counselor or something.”

“Idk, bro, I’m kinda used to it. People just come out to me all the fucking time. Fuck you not--sophmore year? Five different people came out to me in a week.”

“No!”

“Bits. I thought I had a goddamn sign taped to my back that said, ‘will affirm all sexual identities’.”

Right. Shitty  _ is _ good at this. Bitty twists his fingers together. “There’s um. There’s one more thing.”

Shitty sobers up immediately. “Okay, shoot.”

“My parents don’t know.”

“Scuse me?”

“A-about either. They don’t know I’m gay, but they… they also don’t know I’m trans.”

Shitty’s eyes widen. “What the-- _ How?”  _ And then, quickly, “Obviously you are absolutely not required to give me any details that you are not comfortable with, and I think you’re a brave soul for--”

“Shitty. It’s okay. I really wanted to tell someone. And I, well, I don’t see them much, since I’m away. Skype and on the phone I can fudge it. It was only last summer that…” he swallows. “I managed. My face hasn’t changed all that much, maybe it’s a little less round, but as long as I wear make-up and, you know, shave all over, and don’t bind and um, if I talk softly and pitch my voice higher…” 

Bitty looks at the ground. “It’s, you know, it’s worked. My mom wasn’t thrilled when I cut my hair, and when my voice first started dropping, she asked if I was getting over a cold, but I think she and coach are used to my voice the way it is now, so they can’t really tell anymore as long as I still mind my pitch. I. I know I’ll have to tell them eventually, but since I’m a legal adult I was able to get hormones without them knowing. I have all my skating money and it’s  _ mine,  _ I have my own bank account and everything and yeah, I use most of it for school stuff of course but… but.” He kicks a rock. “I want to get top surgery before I go to France next summer. They’ll probably have to know by then.”

“Bits.” And Shitty looks crushed. “Fuck, man. That’s… can I give you a hug? Would that be encroaching on your personal space?”

Bitty shakes his head. “...a hug would be good.” 

Shitty gives good hugs.

 

-

 

It’s easier then, to tell Ransom and Holster that even if he’s a guy now, he’s still interested in guys. They have the rather worrying reaction of opening facebook and insisting that he points out everyone who’s his type, but it’s also nice. To be fully accepted.

 

-

 

“Hey y’all! Hope you been doing well. I’m pretty good! I rewatched some of my older videos and my voice has definitely dropped some, which is great,” less great for hiding from his parents but “And I was in pretty good shape before, you know, figure skater and all, but oh my gosh my  _ abs.  _ I am  _ cut, _ lord. Still shaving every day, so what barely-there hair I am growing remains to be seen, but I’m a clean-cut boy anyway so I don’t mind that much.” He pauses here, not really sure if he should say it but, “There’s um, something else. I came out to some of my friends here. They already knew about the trans thing obviously, but I also--I also told them how I’m looking for a boyfriend and not…” 

He sighs. “It’s different, you know? Back then the last thing I wanted was attention for any boys, because I knew they saw me as a girl and I straight-up hated that. It made me feel so sick. And now… now I have to deal with the ‘well if you liked boys anyway, why didn’t you just stay a girl’ as if who I date is the deciding factor. And it’s not. I know it’s not. But it would be nice to be reminded of that more often, by other people.”

“The team has been really nice about it,” he adds. “About everything. I might actually end up getting a date for Winter Screw. Not that I’m too fussed about some of the choices though. I don’t honestly know what I’m looking for, since I was never really inclined or allowed to look. It’s another part of me that I’ve got to figure out I guess. I hope I do. It would be nice if I did. It… it would be nice to have a boyfriend who liked me for me. Who knew who and what I was and didn’t care, because I was me at the end of the day. And at this point it might wishful thinking. Might stay wishful thinking for a long time.”

“But it’s a hope.”

 

-

 

It’s funny, how Bitty spent over a year hanging out at the Haus and never running into Jack, but he now seems to see him all the time. Jack in the mess hall (they always end up sitting next to or across from each other), or at the rink (Bitty has...loosened up a little bit when it came to skating around him), or at Annie’s (for more studying; at least those meetings were planned), or sometimes like this:

“What are you making this time?” Jack asks, coming into the kitchen.

“Tarts!” Bitty says cheerfully. “Not the the pie kind, the actual tart kind. My mom mailed me some tins, and I just had to use them right away.”

“Oh,” Jack says, walking over to take a closer look. “Nice.” Then he frowns. “Don’t you have a class right now?”

“...well,” Bitty says, after a moment. “What’s college without skipping a class once in awhile?”

“It’s a way to get bad grades,” Jack sighs. “And I know you’re working hard, but there’s no reason to tempt fate.”

“It’s just the one class,” Bitty mumbles. It’s not fair that Jack can make him feel… fluttery and also so guilty all at the same time. “I can stand to miss one class.”

Jack sighs again, but he doesn’t push the issue. Instead he leans over to look at the dough Bitty is carefully putting in the tart tins. “Looks complicated,” he says.

“Not at all! Honestly, making the dough is the hardest part, getting it right without it toughening, and then waiting while it’s cooling down--”

“Cooling down?”

“Cool-down is a very important part of making most sweet doughs,” Bitty says matter-of-factly. “But that’s all taken care of. Now it’s just shaping the tarts and putting them in the oven. Here,” he holds out an empty tin to Jack. “Want to give it a go?”

Jack tentatively takes the tin, looking the most uncertain Bitty has ever seen him. “Um. What do I do?”

Bitty carefully guides Jack through the process of putting the dough into the tin which, it really  _ is  _ pretty easy, but Jack keeps making holes and having to start over.

“I’m never going to get this,” he says, sounding frustrated.

Bitty laughs. He can’t help it. At Jack’s betrayed expression, he says, “Now you know how I feel about French.”

“I should be making you have this whole conversation in French,” Jack mutters. “Practice makes perfect.”

“That it does, Mr. Zimmermann.” Bitty replies, absolutely confident in the kitchen. “So you’re getting these tins filled with tart. Today.”

And Jack sighs yet again, but he bends back over the counter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual harrassment, mentions of past sexual harrassment

Bitty has just finished a class and is walking through the quad trying to figure out if he wants to go to his dorm or if he should swing by the library to work some more on a paper when he notices Jack, who has just literally lept over a snowbank.

“Bittle,” Jack says, coming over to him. “I was heading to Annie’s. Do you want to come?”

“Sure,” Bitty says. Annie’s sounds like a good compromise between dorm and library, and he’s currently in love with their peppermint hot chocolate. “But you better not be trying to trick me into studying more French,” he adds warily. “I just had that test and I am _off_ today.”

“Alright, Bittle,” Jack says, but he’s smiling. “Whatever you say.”

Jack insists on buying the drinks, just like he always does because “I think I’m good for it, Bittle,” (Bitty has since learned about Bad Bob and the fact that, well, that Jack is pretty well off), while Bitty goes to find seats for them.

When Jack comes back, he pulls his camera out of his bag and shows Bitty some of the pictures he’s been taking for his photography class. “My theme is teamwork,” Jack explains, as he shows Bitty pictures of the rink, of the Haus, and of the boys (and Lardo).

Surprisingly, there are actually a few photos of Bitty too. When he points that out, Jack shrugs. “You’re part of my team.”

“Oh.” Bitty goes warm, and it’s not just the hot chocolate.

 

-

 

Every so often, Bitty gets hit on. Sometimes by girls, but also sometimes by guys. He cringes internally every time, because they might not know, or maybe they do, and Bitty doesn’t want to take the chance that they _don’t_ know and find out and it’s messy, or they do know and want to change him, or… any number of things.

Sometimes some of them, especially the guys, are really insistent. Like the one who asked Bitty out after class and then followed him to the rink after Bitty had politely declined. Bitty’s just lucky that he’d laced up his skates before his… admirer had followed him in.

He can’t follow Bitty onto the ice though, but he’s _there,_ just… waiting, and Bitty is on the ice in his binder and street clothes because there was no way he was heading to the locker room to change while he had

company

and then he remembers that his cell phone is in his back pocket, and he pulls it out and goes to the group chat while he skates in idle circles.

 **Bitty:** Sorry to bother you guys, but is anyone close to the rink?

 **Holster:** I’m just leaving class. What’s up?

 **Bitty:** Um. I. Might need a safewalk buddy.

 **Ransom:** Shit man, of course, guys, who’s closest?

 **Dex:** Fuck, Nursey and I are in the mess hall.

 **Chowder:** Bitty, I just got out of class, but I could run over!!

 **Bitty:** Chowder, sweet child, you are not sprinting to my rescue. I can wait until someone can walk over like a normal person.

 **Jack:** I was headed over to the rink. I’ll be there in a couple minutes. Are you okay until then?

 **Bitty:** I should be fine. He can’t follow me onto the ice.

 **Holster:** foLLOW YOU ONTO THE ICE??

 **Holester:** Take a picture, I will find him on facebook and fuck his shit up.

 **Bitty:** Honestly I would really not interact at all.

 **Ransom:** No man, of course. Just wait for Jack to show up.

 **Jack:** Almost there.

Bitty bites his lip and pockets his phone, and tries to at least concentrate on skating and not… on the eyes on him that are so different from the attention he’s used to while skating, but is also way too familiar.

He’d felt like this a lot, when the football players tried to hang out with him, back when he wore his hair in a ponytail.

Then Jack runs into the rink, actually _runs,_ and then he stops to narrow his eyes at the guy--Bitty doesn’t even know his _name--_ sitting at one of the benches before he laces up his own skates and joins him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, when he gets close enough. “You okay?”

“Been better,” Bitty says. “Thank you um, thank you for coming.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back. We all do.”

“...thanks, Jack.”

They do laps together, until the guy seems to get bored and finally leaves. Bitty turns to Jack. “Did you want to get your practice in, now?”

Jack shakes his head. “Where were you headed next? I’ll walk you there.”

“Thank you,” Bitty says again, swallowing.

 

-

 

When they get to Bitty’s dorm room, Bitty shuffles his feet for a second before, “Do you um, want to come inside for a minute?”

“Sure, if you want me to.”

“I kind of want to talk to someone,” Bitty admits. “About why I keep freaking out. But it doesn’t have to be you, if you don’t want to listen. I’m sure Lardo or Shitty--”

“Bits. Of course I’ll listen.” Jack nods to the door. “You wanna let us in?”

Bitty nods and fumbles with his key before leading Jack inside. He goes to sit on the bed and Jack heads to Bitty’s desk chair. Giving him some space.

“Well,” Bitty says after a minute. “I’m uh, I’m sure it’s made it to you by now that I’m… that I’m gay.” He pauses expectantly.

“...yeah,” Jack says after a second. “So?”

“And um. That I’m not a girl.”

“You’ve mentioned,” Jack says, lips quirking.

It puts Bitty at ease, how little Jack cares, so he ploughs forward. “I um, I got a lot of unwanted attention in high school. My dad was the football coach so guys were always hanging around and I… I mean I guess I was pretty. And I liked to bake and all that, so I was a catch I guess. Which is so stupid when you think about how damn gay I am, now that I’m allowed to be a boy.” Bitty fidgets with his shirt hem. “I locked myself in a closet at school once. To get some guys to leave me alone. The janitor found me later. That’s when Coach started looking for a new job and we ended up moving.”

Jack nods, expression serious now. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I-I try to get past it, but that’s why I’m not so great with, uh, with people givin’ me attention, you know? I’m kind of always suspicious. And for all I know, that boy was perfectly nice--”

“He wasn’t, if he made you feel unsafe,” Jack says firmly.

He says it with such conviction and Bitty is this close to believing him.

“Thanks for listening,” Bitty says, after a while.

“Of course.”

 

-

 

Bitty is nervous all through his class the week after, because he came late specifically to avoid maybe getting talked to but he can’t leave early because his teacher is holding their papers hostage. So he’s got to wait, and he’s spotted The Guy sitting a couple rows down and Bitty just knows that he’s going to be approached again after class, he just knows it, guys like that don’t just give _up--_

He grabs his test as quickly as he can and then makes a break for the door.

“Hey Bitty,” Nursey says, pushing up from the wall he’d been leaning against and pocketing his phone.

“What--Nursey? I--what are you doing here?”

Nursey shrugs. “Jack suggested that one of us, you know, walk you out of this class for a little while. I’m free now. So’s Dex; he’s gonna get the next time.”

Bitty can barely breathe under the rush of affection he has for--for all of them, really. “Oh, well. Thank you. And I suppose it’d be remiss of me not to whip up a little something to show it.”

“You just got out of class,” Nursey says, “Sure you don’t want me to walk you to the library or something?”

“Derek Malik Nurse, I am not to be judged when I am offering you baked goods!”

 

-

 

After that, Jack spends even more time with him. He shows Bitty more of his photographs (and accidentally spills coffee all over Bitty this one time). He joins Bitty in the kitchen, and even attempts to lattice a pie. They study French together. They study more than French together, just keeping each other company in the library or at the Haus (Bitty studies at the kitchen table or in Jack’s room, because there is no way he’s putting his butt on that green horror of a couch).

Sometimes Jack grabs his phone and keeps it until Bitty has made some more progress. That is not so great, but it does actually help increase his productivity so Bitty _supposes_ he can’t complain.

 

-

 

It’s another at-home game, and Bitty is sitting in the bleachers where he always is, rooting hard for Samwell and being loud enough to make sure they know it. He’s found that he really loves hockey; it’s an interesting, fast-paced sport, and while the checking sort of terrifies him and he hates it happens during a game, the rest of it he thoroughly enjoys.

He screams as loud as he can when Jack scores a hat-trick, the celebration celly totally worth it. As Jack takes a lap, he looks up for a second and--Bitty could swear that he’s looking straight at him. It’s a silly thought, and he discards it immediately, but it still was there. For a second. The thought was in his mind.

Jack Zimmermann.

_Jack Zimmermann._

Bitty is so stupid.

 

-

 

“So hey, y’all! Back again with a new vlog! Now, for a while, some of you have been asking about my love life...and for advice…” He shifts in his chair. “Why you would is beyond me. I don’t have much advice because. Well. I’ve never had much of a love life.” Obviously. “...but I will say this. If you’re in a position like mine, where… you know.” he takes a deep breath, tries to hold in his tears. “...and it is something I should have learned a long time ago.”

They come anyway, and he has to hide his face in his hands.

“Never fall for a straight boy.”


	5. Chapter 5

Life goes on. And Bitty’s pretty good at hiding feelings. So nothing changes, but he still hangs out with everyone and that’s so nice, he can push down the box labeled “Jack” and stuff it in a corner of his mind.

A bunch of them are in the Haus Kitchen; Bitty (who might as well live there for how often he’s over) baking with Dex while Jack and Ransom lean against the counter and talk about golf of all things, because they are Old Souls, when he gets a phone call.

He can’t hide his sharp intake of breath when he sees who’s calling.

“...Bitty?” Dex asks. “You okay?”

“I have to take this,” Bitty says, and he rushes out of the house. Which is so stupid he doesn’t even have a coat on but--

“Hi, Katya.”

“It’s been too long,” she says, the voice Bitty remembers from many, many training sessions. “I have missed your voice.”

Bitty swallows, and pitches his voice, just like he does when he talks to his parents. “I’ve missed you too,” because he really has. He left… a lot of things behind, to go to Samwell.

“I will not beat around the bush,” she says. “I want you to get ready for qualifying for the next olympics. If you’ve been keeping up your practice, and I know you have, you have a shot for gold with a coach. I will travel to Boston for this.”

“Oh. Oh my goodness. Katya…” his throat closes up. This means so much and yet… “I want to. I really do. But I can’t just stop college.”

“So why stop? You will train in between. I know you can do this. You were always a hard worker.”

“I…” what other excuses does he have? It’s the olympics. And he does have a shot. He knows he does. He’s kept in practice, and he’s only gotten better and-- “I can’t,” he says, trying not to cry. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

She clicks her tongue, the sound so familiar that he can picture her face. “No apologies, you will do it.”

“I can’t compete in the women’s division,” he blurts out. “I’m not one.”

There is silence from the other end of the phone. Bitty wishes she would say something. “Please don’t tell my parents,” he begs. “I’ll tell them, I will but I can’t right now, I can’t, I’m so sorry,” his voice is thick with tears now, “I’d be a girl if I could, I would, I’ve tried, I’ve tried so hard but--”

“What’s your name?” Katya interrupts.

Bitty swallows, tries to focus on her question. “I--what?”

“Your name.” She sounds impatient. “What do I call you?”

“E-Eric.” It’s a whisper. Is she…?

“Eric. I will think about this.” and she hangs up.

Bitty stares down at his phone, almost unable to see it through his tears and the faint glimmer of hope, and he’s freezing sitting on the porch step but he can’t go back inside--

A coat, warm from being inside, gets draped around his shoulders. Bitty starts and looks up. Jack is moving next to him on the step, looking concerned. He’s close enough that their thighs touch, Jack warm against Bitty’s freezing one.

“You okay?” Jack asks quietly.

Bitty wipes at his face. “I don’t know. I don’t know and I wish I knew. I wish this wasn’t so  _ hard. _ ”

Jack clears his throat. “Sometimes… sometimes it’s hard to be what people expect you to be.”

They sit there, side by side, for a long time.

 

-

 

Katya doesn’t call him back, and Bitty’s on edge waiting for it, or from the aghast call from his parents, but neither come. He talks to the school psychiatrist and sneaks into the student kitchens to bake at three am and tries to focus on his studies and eventually it gets easier to breathe.

His friends seem to figure out that something is really wrong, because they’re there a lot more. Lardo coaxes him into sitting with her while she sketches. Dex asks about learning more recipes. So does Chowder, who is surprisingly good at following instructions and thus not a disaster in the kitchen. Nursey, on the other hand, is mostly just put in charge of cleaning up his own messes. Ransom and Holster try to find him dates (which is very nice and well-meaning but not the most helpful distraction), Shitty sucks him into whatever thing he is currently being indignant about at the time. Sometimes there are (clothed) hugs, with permission.

Jack skates with him. Takes him to Annie’s, or for gelato, or for brunch. There is more studying, and Bitty actually thinks he might pass French. He talks more to his supervisor about what classes he might sign up for next semester (including a senior level one he is strongly considering bribing his way into), and the abroad office to plan for France in the summer.

He talks to his doctor about top surgery, and they decide it might actually be better to wait until after France, but they do talk tentative dates for the coming year. He’d get back from France mid-August. That would be a good time to get surgery, since he’d have a few weeks before the semester started to heal from the worst of it (and be done with the drainage bags, ew). He would need someone to help take care of him, at least for the first couple days but… maybe… maybe…

Anyway, he has time before he’s got to worry about that.

He doesn’t think about winter break and leaving everyone behind for Georgia.

 

-

 

“So you’re telling me that boy’s never had a proper fourth of July before?”

Bitty smiles and doesn’t laugh, because it’s harder to disguise his voice when he does. “For what it’s worth, Mama, he is Canadian. They even celebrate it on the wrong day.”

His mom pursues her lips. “Well, I’m glad he’s been such a good friend to you. I’d say invite him on down, but you know what you’re father would say about a pretty thing like you hosting a boy.”

“Right. I know.” His smile is brittle, but he doesn’t think she can tell. The concealer and lipgloss and eyeliner feel heavy on his face. He’s not used to it anymore, even though he can still artfully apply it. You learn a lot, when you’re trying desperately to fit in. “But I’ll tell him you had the thought. It’d probably make him happy.”

“And now you’re  _ sure _ there’s nothing going on between you two? I mean he’s so handsome, and athletic, and--”

“I’m sure, mama,” Bitty says firmly. And then, teasing, “Anyway, the way you go on about him, are you sure you’re not the one with eyes for Mr. Zimmermann?”

“Well, now that you mention it, his father  _ is _ quite--”

“Mama!”

“Alright, alright,” she laughs. “Have you seen that cobbler recipe posted to our site?”

“Mother, please. You know I check our pintrest like it’s the news.”

They chat for a little while longer about baking, and then briefly touch on his grades, but it seems like she’s actually done teasing him about Jack, though she does ask about “any other hot prospects.”

“Now I know you weren’t much for dating back in high school,” she says, “and I know you said it was because you had to focus on your skating and obviously your father and I fully supported you in that, but there’s really no one there that’s made your heart flutter yet?”

Yes. Yes, there is. “No, mama, sorry.”

“...you know,” she says hesitantly, “If there aren’t any um, any  _ boys _ that have caught your eye…”

Oh god, he needs to shut that thought right down, “There might have been one! Maybe. But I’m not sure he’s interested in me.”

“Oh honey, how could he not be? Just bake him some cobbler and he’ll be eating it out of the palm of your hand. That’s how I landed your father.”

“I’ll, yeah, maybe.”

“I know you’re a shy one, sweetie. Of course it’s better to take your time. Feel things out.”

“Thanks mama, I will. I’ll um, I’ll keep you updated.”

They disconnect soon after, and Bitty slumps in his chair. It only gets harder. With each day, it gets harder to keep lying and hiding and even the little lies are twisted into big ones.

He goes over to his sink and starts to scrub the make-up off his face, dips a q-tip in makeup remover to carefully swipe under each eye. He takes off his earrings -- the dangly kind, because they work best for making his face look slimmer, more heart-shaped -- and stows them in his little jewelry case. Then he pulls off his shirt to put his binder back on.

It’s probably not necessary to go without it, for a skype call. His mother probably wouldn’t be able to tell. But it makes the facade a little bit simpler to keep up. The make-up, the jewelry, the slight chest... he’s in costume. It’s okay. And now he’s undressing and putting himself back together again.

He checks his phone. Katya still hasn’t contacted him.

 

-

 

Then it’s December. In between writing papers and fretting about finals week, he’s also talking to his parents about his trip home, and what flights to take, and how he’s getting to the airport, and it’s real. He’s going back again. And he already knows that he won’t be able to tell them. Not in person. He’s never been very good at confrontation

Besides, he would never want to reveal something like this around the holidays. It would bring everything down and make it awkward for everyone and what if… what if his parents… reacted badly. He might not, well--

Might not have a place to go.

And it’s horrible to even have the fear at all, his parents love him, they do, but they love a very specific version of him and it’s not the ‘him’ one.

 

-

 

**Kissandcryplease:** I think the worst part of any experience is the anticipation

**Kissandcryplease:** @Kissandcryplease even if it’s supposed to be a good thing, you’re still a waiting bundle of nerves

**Kissandcryplease:** @Kissandcryplease I’m anxious after every single performance where I’m going to be scored, no matter how well I think I did

**Kissandcryplease:** @Kissandcryplease did I make a mistake and not realize it? Am I going to be docked for my costume? Do the judges just not like me?

**Kissandcryplease:** @Kissandcryplease and it’s worse when you know you messed up. When you flubbed a jump or a landing or a...transition and you KNOW it

**Kissandcryplease:** @Kissandcryplease sometimes other parts of your life are like that. When you know you’re just waiting to be judged.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: this might make your heart hurt.

He packs up for winter break. There’s not really a whole lot to pack, actually, because most of his clothes are still at home, the things he didn’t take with him because “there’s no point lugging all my clothes up North, mother, not when I’m going to get a new fall wardrobe.”

Most of his “new fall wardrobe” has no business being brought down to Georgia. 

He says his goodbyes to his friends as they all separately head home (or to each other’s homes) for break, and then he gets dressed in one of the outfits he bought especially for his parents, something nice that fits him now. He puts on his makeup and his jewelry, clips a festive bow into his hair. Looks into the mirror. His face is slightly different, but it’s not too noticeable underneath everything else. 

He breathes. He grabs his luggage and gets into the car for the airport. At least it’s winter, so for the most part he’s bundled in a coat and hat and most of him isn’t… visible.

But he’s still so incredibly ashamed and embarrassed to be seen this way, even by strangers.

 

-

 

Break passes slowly.

He bakes with his mother, because that makes them both happy. Watches football with his father, because it makes him proud that his little girl knows to care about the game. He finds solace in the group chat, which is constantly buzzing, and the solo texts he exchanges with Lardo and Jack. He skypes them both a lot, during break, and that helps. 

He always makes sure he’s not wearing makeup when he does.

Then it’s actual Christmas eve, and he and his parents each always exchange one nice gift, because that’s a long-standing tradition from when Bitty was a kid and couldn’t bear to wait an entire day before presents.

He gives his father a custom jersey he bought off Etsy. It’s got the state of Georgia on the front, inside a football, and that back says COACH with his dad’s college number.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” his dad says, and he sounds pleased.

For his mom he gives a picture of him, in an I spin, in a nice frame. It kind of seems egotistical to give it, but he’d known she’d love it; she collects (and loves to show off) pictures of him skating, and she didn’t have one from this year yet, since he hasn’t been competing. 

He’d asked Jack to take it. They’d gone to Faber at 4am to make absolutely sure that no one would walk in on them while Bitty was wearing his… his costume. It had been a total nightmare to buy and had been even harder to wear, but he’d managed.

He’d cried after taking it off, changing in the women’s locker room because he couldn’t go into the men’s one, not like this, and even once he’d come out, wearing his jeans and binder and his favorite button-up, he couldn’t... 

Jack had held him through it, rubbing his back, nodding and offering assurances while Bitty sobbed.

His mom exclaims over the picture and immediately starts making noise about where it will go. Bitty tells himself that it was worth it.

His gift is from both his parents, and it’s in a small box, which he opens with trepidation because small boxes often mean jewelry and--

“Oh.” It’s a necklace. It’s an old necklace. It’s a necklace he recognizes, because his mom has shown it to him several times, over the years. A delicate gold chain and a coral pendant; the chain from his dad’s mother, the coral from his Moomaw. He looks up at his mom.

“Your moomaw and I talked it over,” she says, “And we both decided it was time to pass this down to you. You’ve… you’ve become such a wonderful, beautiful, independent woman.”

“Thanks, mama,” he whispers, as his eyes fill with tears. At least he can pass them off as happy. They both already know he’s an emotional crier. He takes the necklace out of its little box and clasps it around his neck. The coral pendant settles in the hollow of his throat. He tries not to feel like it’s choking him.

 

-

 

Christmas day, the house is alive with family and friends, most of whom Bitty tries to avoid, but usually just ends up talking about mundane things, like school and his classes, what he plans to major in. His aunts bug him about cute college boys.

Bitty’s able to talk about those, and it’s another thing he hates.

For the most part, however, he hides in the kitchen and bakes. He’s wearing black skinny jeans, because those are acceptable, and a nice top he’d bought right before he’d come down, one that fit him a little better now that he’s slightly buffer. It’s got a little v-neck that perfectly displays the coral necklace. Every time he turns his head, his earrings, varying lengths of gold chain that match his necklace (a present from the morning gift exchange), swing. The weight is familiar.

He helps to set the table. He stays as quiet as he can through dinner, though that’s hard what with him being one of the centers of attention, having come back from college. He talks about Lardo (Larissa) a lot, because she’s a female friend and thus a much safer topic of conversation. 

Jack gets brought up. There are jokes. His father huffs but doesn’t seem too upset. Jack Zimmermann is a catch. His family would be pleased if he caught him.

So would Bitty, but for a number of different reasons. Right now, they seem like the wrong ones.

 

-

 

When it’s finally, finally time to go back to Samwell, his father drives him up to the airport. Bitty’s got his winter coat tucked up under one arm, because there was no way he was gonna be caught out in Boston cold after Georgia’s “winter.”

“Love you, sweetheart,” his father says, as they hug goodbye. “Knock ‘em dead up there.”

“I love you too, daddy,” Bitty says, holding on tight. He’s going to tell them at some point, once he’s back at Samwell. He’s going to settle in first, and then skype his mother and tell her.

And he’s aware that this might be the last time his father tells him that he’s loved, even if he hopes to god that his fears are unfounded.

 

-

 

He hides himself as best he can under his coat on his way back to school. The first thing he does when he gets back to his dorm his throw off his winter clothes, tear off his top, and put on his binder, along with his Samwell hoodie. He methodically removes his makeup. He takes off his earrings and unclasps his necklace, and stares down at them for a long time, before he tucks them away in their little jewelry boxes and shoves those in his carry-on for later.

Then he opens group chat.

**Bitty:** finally back, y'all! Who’s here?

**Chowder:** I’ll be back tomorrow!! I can’t wait to see everyone again!

**Ransom:** Holster and I’ll be there in a couple hours. Or longer, depending how lost we get. Holster’s driving.

**Shitty:** Brah, I’m at the Haus! Come on by! We can make a murder run.

**Bitty:** I am suspicious that you only want me for my baking, Mr. Knight.

**Shitty:** Psh, naw, course not. Anyway, Jack and Lardo are both here. Seriously, come over.

And well, Bitty really could use a friendly face or three right now. So he grabs his wallet and makes his way over. Shitty and Lardo are on the front porch, bundled up, sharing a bag of gummy bears. 

“Hey man!” Shitty says, clapping Bitty on the back. “Good to see you again.”

“Thanks,” Bitty says, as Lardo goes in for a hug. “I missed you guys.”

“Got that from the chat, bro,” Lardo says. “No offense? Glad you’re out of Georgia.”

Bitty sighs. “Yeah. Um. Me too.”

“You know what would be perfect right now?” Shitty says.

“What?”

“Brunch! Lemme go get Jack.”

“Bear?” Lardo offers, as Shitty runs inside. 

Bitty smiles and takes a couple. “How was your break?”

Lardo grins. “It was nice. I pretty much did not stop eating the entire time. Can’t get food like that here, you know?”

“Oh! Lardo, I could absolutely try to make something if you gave me recipes.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, maybe. Though you’d have a hard time matching what my family can do.”

“I absolutely understand sacred family recipes,” Bitty says solemnly. “But gimme something to go on and I’ll make an attempt.”

“Cool.” 

“Hey Bittle,” Jack says, coming out of the Haus, followed closely by Shitty. “Good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be home,” Bitty says, before he thinks about how that sounds. “I mean back! It’s-it’s good to be back.”

Jack nods. “Shitty said something about brunch?”

“Jack my man is going to treat us,” Shitty grins. Jack sighs in a self-suffering way. By now they all know he’s just doing it because it’s expected of him.

“And forth we go to brunch!”

“Shitty,” Jack points out as they walk, “it’s after one. It’s not brunch anymore.”

“It’s brunch if I call it brunch, man.”

“What would the after-lunch equivilant be?” Bitty asks. “Linner?”

Lardo snickers. “That sounds like a math problem.”

“It’s called late lunch,” Jack mutters. He is generally ignored.

They get to Jerry’’s and converge on a table, and it is true; brunch at Jerry’s is over. But there is still a variety of breakfast foods on the menu that is order-all-the-time and they all get something from that section, in, as Shitty says, the  _ spirit _ of brunch.

They talk about everything and nothing; what they did during break, upcoming classes, Shitty goes at Jack over his possible contracts, Lardo goes at Shitty over law school (at which he lets out a horrified, betrayed gasp and then tries to noogie her, spilling orange juice all over the table. They are moved to another table. Jack profusely apologizes to the waitress).

Bitty gets the distinct feeling that he’s being distracted, but honestly he’s glad to be. He--he  _ is _ back home. These are his friends. They  _ know _ him. They know him, and about him, and they love him anyway. It’s more than he could have ever hoped for.

There… there might be something more that he is hoping for, as he catches sight of Jack smiling as Lardo punches Shitty in the shoulder, but he does his best not to be greedy.


	7. Chapter 7

“French 1020, eh?” Jack asks, sitting down next to him at Annie’s.

“I hate myself and I hate my life and I hate my choices and I  _ hate French conjugation. _ Forget it. I’ll read the translated versions of the recipes like a heathen. I don’t care anymore.”

“It’s not that bad, Bittle.” Bitty looks up. Jack is utterly failing to hide a smile.

“You think this is funny,” Bitty accuses, jabbing out with his pencil.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I’m having a  _ crisis _ and my tutor thinks it’s  _ hilarious, _ help me lord.”

Jack pokes Bitty in the forehead with the eraser of his own pencil. “And you know how to say all those words in French. Go.”

“Ugh!”

They chirp back and forth, and Jack Zimmermann is  _ ruthless _ . They do also study some more French. When Bitty gets sick of that, he begs to be allowed to use his phone and Jack, after yet more chirping (ruthless!) hands it over and pulls out a textbook. He reads while Bitty scrolls through his twitter and his vlog comments, and when his phone rings it’s startling to both of them.

Katya’s name flashes on the caller ID.

“I--sorry,” Bitty chokes out, grabbing up his coat, “I have to take this I’ll--I’ll be right back--”

He leaves his backpack and notes at the table with Jack and flees. He wishes there was someplace more private to take the call, but all he can do his huddle against the side of the building and hope no one notices him.

“H-hello?” He can’t decide whether or not to pitch his voice, and the word comes out garbled.

“Yes,” Katya says, because she’s not really one for pleasantries when something’s on her mind. “...Eric.”

He swallows. She used his name. She used his name, what does that mean. “Yes?”

“I checked many places. Who can say you are a boy?”

“I… what?” What is happening.

She clicks her tongue. “For competition. You need official papers. Who can give you this?”

“I--I have a psychiatrist? And um, and a doctor. They--they both could--” he hasn’t legally changed his name yet, but Samwell was a ‘preferred name and pronoun’ campus so all his school stuff is under Eric. He has two IDs; one he uses, and the other he can show to his parents. It’s a good thing that they haven’t yet been able to come up for a visit. He doesn’t think he could have stood walking around campus being… someone else.

“So you have official papers. And you are on medicine?”

“Um. H-hormones, yeah.”

“For people like you, that does not count as steroid use, as long as it is medically sanctioned.”

“...oh. Um. That’s good?”

“How is your flexibility? Have you lost it?”

“No, no I--I’ve been keeping in shape and in practice. I do your stretches every morning and my ballet exercises every night.”

“Good. That will help. There are not many male skaters who are as flexible as you will be.” She can’t be saying what he thinks she’s saying. “And you were already one of the best with having your triple-triples--” it’s true, that’s one of the reasons he’s done so well over the years, not many female skaters had triple-triples, “--but if you compete as a man, you will need to get your quads. You will not be able to hold your own otherwise. But once you get them, there will be no competition.”

“Katya--”

“If you are to be considered for qualification for next year, you must start competing again in earnest to show the you are worth taking on. You are a risk now. Regional sign-ups are coming up soon, and the competition is in September. I will take care of the sign-ups; you will send me all your paperwork. You must start working on your long and short program now. Then sectionals in November, nationals in January, and then the olympics. Which you will compete in and place.”

“I… Katya…” He can’t breathe. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll--I’ll send everything over.”

“Good. I will submit as soon as I receive it, and I will make plans to come to Boston.”

They hang up and Bitty can’t help but cry, because he never thought--it had been a dream, but he’d never  _ thought-- _

“Bittle?”

Bitty looks up. Jack is standing next to him, looking concerned. “Is…. is everything okay?”

“I’m going to compete again,” he babbles. “As a boy, I’m going to compete again. Katya is going to help me set everything up, she’s going to coach me again, if I train all through the summer I might--”

Oh.

Oh.

“...Bitty?”

Bitty swallows, but the decision is already made. “I, well. I guess I’m not going to France.”

 

-

 

The next few days are a flurry of activity. He meets with his psychiatrist to get a letter. Meets with his doctor to get yet another one. He talks to his school counselor about his change in plans and why he’s made them--and it’s still early enough that he hadn’t put down a deposit so that isn’t a worry. Instead he starts making very tentative plans for staying in Boston over the summer. He can apply to stay in student housing and use Faber and his parents were expecting him to be gone all summer because of France anyway. It wouldn’t even be  _ too _ big a lie to just… not tell them. That he wasn’t going.

“Bits, I love you, but that is literally the stupidest plan. You think they won’t notice you’re not in France? You’d be sending them photos every twenty seconds.”

Bitty presses his hands over his eyes. “I know, I know. I just. I don’t know what to do.”

Lardo sighs and puts a hand on his back. “I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, but I understand how much this sucks for you. But like. You always planned to tell them. Now might be a good time. And… you’re staying here til summer, and then you’re planning to stay here for the summer too, to keep practicing. In fact, I bet one of the guys would let you crash in the Haus for the summer, if you asked.”

What she’s not saying is that he has a place to stay. 

“Yeah. Thanks Lardo.” 

She nods and fiddles with her phone before picking up her sketchbook.

“Hey Bits!” Shitty says a few minutes later, clattering down the stairs. “Lardo said you wanted to talk to me?”

Bitty gives Lardo the stinkeye. As always, she appears unaffected and turns back to her sketchbook. “I’m um, I’m not going to France, Shitty.”

“What?” The surprise is expected. Pretty much everyone in the Haus knows how much he’d been looking forward to it. “Fuck, man, why?”

“I’m going to be training for regionals. Skating. Katya, my coach, is going to come up to train me. She thinks I… that I might have a shot, if I really buckle down. In… in the men’s division.”

“No shit! Bits, that’s great!”

“Yeah. Yeah. I--I’m going to do France next year, instead.” Maybe. Depending on how skating goes.

“And,” Lardo prompts.

Bitty glares at her. Shitty looks at him expectantly. Bitty sighs. “And I’m going to be staying here over the summer, instead of going to France or going back home. So…”

“You need a place to stay?” Shitty asks. “The Haus is yours if you want it, brah. In fact, Johnson’s room is almost, you know, done being renovated.” The room had needed an overhaul, and it’d been so bad that Johnson hadn’t even put it up for lottery because it was basically uninhabitable (and no one knew how Johnson had managed, especially since everyone was positive he hadn’t actually done any damage himself). Work on it had been slow just because of how busy the Haus was. And it hadn’t helped that it kept getting re-trashed during Haus parties, people sneaking upstairs to the empty room only to break another floorboard. Two different contractors had quit on them.

Shitty pauses. “I’ll be right back.” and he turns right around again.

Bitty looks to Lardo, who shrugs. “Told you he’d offer,” she says after a minute. “Any of the boys would. You’re pretty much team.”

“Says the manager?”

“Right. And what I say goes.”

Bitty smiles. He’s glad Shitty gave Lardo his dibs. She kind of belongs in the Haus. She’s as much of the team as any of the rest of them are.

Shitty thumps back down the stairs, clutching his cell phone in one hand and holding out the other to Bitty.

“What?”

“Shake it, brah!”

“What--” Bitty reaches out and takes Shitty’s hand to shake it.

Then, through the phone, comes Johnson’s voice on speaker. “Bitty, you’ve got my dibs. The room should be ready for you by next week. Good luck.” followed by the click of being disconnected.

“Ready for me next week?” Bitty asks. “But that room’s been out of commission for months. And--dibs? I-I’m not even part of the hockey team!”

“You are now!” Shitty cries, grabbing Bitty up in a hug. 

Lardo laughs. “With how much you feed them, you better be considered part of the team,” and she reaches up to ruffle Bitty’s hair once Shitty lets go.

“Gosh I… I don’t even know… I have to thank Johnson…”

“You can mail him some of those cookies he likes,” Shitty says matter-of-factly. “Now we gotta plan on moving you in!”

 

-

 

Bitty gets settled into the Haus by the next week, as promised (how does Johnson always  _ know? _ ). It’s… interesting being across the hall from Jack and Shitty. He overhears a lot, and it’s kind of fun, belonging in such a concrete way.

Jack chirps him basically nonstop about his music choices, but Bitty signed up for chirping when he became friends with Ransom and Holster. He can deal. Anyway, it’s kind of nice? That they have something easy to back-and-forth about.

Jack ends up helping Katya find an apartment in Boston, because he is a gentleman like that. They also end up hitting off (of course they do, because Katya loves a work ethic and Jack Zimmermann works harder than god). Everyone else ends up thoroughly terrified of her.

Most likely in part because apparently Jack has started incorporating some of her training into hockey drills.

Either way it’s…. It’s amazing, to see Katya in person, to be skating with her again. He’s never worked harder in his life, and he’s tired every day, his legs hurt, his body aches, he’s stretched and sore and it’s wonderful.

Along with all the skating training, he’s still trying to do his best in school, though he does keep getting distracted, and, well, he does tend to bake when he’s nervous, and there’s just a lot going on. He’d vague-tweeted on twitter about maybe getting back into training and it had sort of exploded across the internet, at least in the skating circles. 

He hasn’t… well. No one knows what division he’s going to be competing in. But he wants to come out. He wants to. And he needs to, at least before November.

Before March, really. After all the hype for Worlds dies down, he’s going to be bigger news. He was fairly popular in the skating circuit.

And besides that... Before summer. Because of a lot of reasons.

Which is why he’s fidgeting in his room waiting for his skype call to be accepted. He’s in a very nice shirt and sweater combination. He’s not wearing jewelry or makeup.

The call goes through, and his mother’s face appears on the screen.

“Hi sweetie! How’ve you been?”

Bitty swallows. “Hi mama,” he says, and it’s a struggle  _ not _ to pitch his voice higher, since he’s so used to doing it with her. Speaking at his normal timbre feels wrong. “I… I have something to tell you.”   
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all your comments. They really make me smile, especially in the face of writing something very difficult.
> 
> And for those of you that have told me this story means something to you because of your own situations, whatever they may be, I wish you nothing but the best. This is one of the reasons I write <3

Bitty closes his laptop and sits back in his chair feeling numb. His mother had said she’d need to think and talk to his father. She’d cried a little. 

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

There’s a knock on his door and he wordlessly goes to answer it.

“Hey,” Jack smiles, “I was headed to the rink. Wondered if you wanted to come?” They’ve been doing even more skating together, now that Bitty is getting trained regularly. Jack honestly seems kind of thrilled at Bitty’s dedication, even if it’s for something not-hockey-related.

“No thanks,” Bitty says dully. “I don’t feel up to it right now.”

Now Jack looks concerned. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Bittle.”

“I said nothing happened!” He clenches his fists and tries to breathe. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, I just… my mom knows. Now. I told her. About me.”

“...and?” Jack asks hesitantly.

“And she’s gonna get back to me,” Bitty spits. “So I get to wait and wait and wait and feel even more awful and then maybe she’ll call and say that she still loves me and accepts me, or maybe she  _ won’t _ , or maybe she’ll say that she does but she won’t use my name and she’ll still use she and her for me and--”

Warm hands settle on his shoulders. “Bitty. Try to breathe. Slow breathes. In and out.”

Bitty tries and he’s mostly gasping but Jack helps, helps settle something. “I’m so sorry,” he says after a couple minutes. “You always manage to catch me out crying. I have more than just two settings of chipper and sobbing.”

“It’s okay,” Jack says. “Shitty says I have modes. Like a robot. Do you… feel any better?”

“Not really,” he says honestly. “I don’t think I’m going to feel better until… until something happens.”

“You’ve got us,” Jack says firmly. “And the Haus, and Katya. And your parents love you.”

“My parents are also from the South,” Bitty says quietly. “And it might’ve been one thing if I’d been born a boy and was just gay. But I’m not even that.”

Jack squeezes his shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you it’ll be fine, because it might not be. But no matter what happens, you will have us. All of us.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“Sure you don’t want to go to the rink?”

Bitty shakes his head. “I’m gonna maybe just lie down.”

Jack frowns. “So you can run all that worry through your head?”

“Uh…”

“Get your skates. We’re going to the rink. It’ll be good for you.”

Bitty’s tired, and he doesn’t feel like arguing, so he gets his skates and his bag (with a top and sports bra to change into) and follows Jack down the stairs and out the door.

The walk clears his mind a little bit. So does changing and actually lacing up his skates.

Once he’s on the ice he takes a deep breath and lets it out again. “This was a good idea,” he tells quietly. “Thanks.”

“I know that sometimes I need to get out of my own head,” Jack shrugs. “Wanna race? Loser buys drinks at Annie’s.”

“You already buy me all my drinks at Annie’s,” Bitty points out, lips quirking.

“Fine,  _ winner _ buys drinks at Annie’s.” Jack grins. “Since I’m going to be buying them anyway.”

“Jack Zimmermann you did  _ not. _ Alright, you’re on. Prepare to get the pants beaten off of you.”

 

-

 

Bitty wins. He takes  _ great pleasure _ in purchasing Jack’s beverage. He still feels antsy, but it’s mostly in the background. He can push it down and compartmentalize and ignore it for now.

“So how are things going for you?” he asks, because Jack has had his own stressors. getting his team ready, working on school, expecting to graduate--and what comes after graduation.

When Jack’s not at the gym, practicing (usually while Bitty’s on the ice too), or working on papers, he’s meeting with a lot of people and discussing contracts with a lot of zeros. 

He’s considering Providence as a team, and Bitty secretly hopes that… well, at least that Jack will choose someplace close. Especially for the summer. Bitty wouldn’t mind the opportunity to see another familiar face once in awhile.

Providence is less than an hour away from Boston.

Jack sighs. “It’s a lot of pressure. I’m worried about a lot of things. That I won’t be up to par. That I’ll make the wrong decision. That… they’ll think I’m a mistake.”

“Never! They’d never think you were a mistake. Jack, you work so hard. You work harder than anyone and you’re so good. You’ve  _ earned _ being good. And you’ve earned all those offers. Whoever you sign with will be lucky to get you.”

Jack’s lips quirk up. “Thanks, Bittle.” The quirk turns into a teasing grin. Bitty sees those a lot with Jack, because that boy does not let up with the chirps for a moment. “So do you have your quads yet?”

Bitty narrows his eyes. “You know as well as I do that I don’t, Mr. Zimmermann.” Because Katya is a snitch and she likes Jack. “And I will tell you that those are  _ difficult, _ and I’ll be lucky to get them before regionals. If I get them.” And he better, because Katya was right; he’ll never hold his own in the men’s division if he doesn’t get quads down.

“You’ll get them,” Jack says easily, like it’s a done deal. And then, again with the grin, “You work at least as hard as I do.”

Bitty strongly considers kicking Jack under the table. In the end he compromises and nudges Jack with his foot. “Well. I guess coming from you, that’s high praise.”

“What do you need to do, to get them?”

Bitty sighs. “Less inclination to falling. We’re working on just one jump right now, the toe loop, because it’s the easiest one to get. But at least I don’t  _ need _ them for regionals, if I skate for points and do perfect triple-triples for my jumps. That’s the program we’re working on to get me to sectionals. But by sectionals I definitely need at least one if I have a hope for nationals, and if I want to be considered for the men’s division on the olympic team. I was a fantastic female figure skater, but I’m only average for men’s at my level right now.”

“You’ll get better,” Jack says with confidence.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

They chat a little more, talking about classes and future plans and what hijinks Ransom and Holster have been up to lately, how the team’s been doing.

“I think I’m going to give Chowder my dibs,” Jack says. “He really deserves it. He’s been invaluable as a goalie, and that’s just as a freshman.”

Bitty smiles. “He’ll be ecstatic. When are you going to tell him?”

“Probably after the frozen four, if we get there. I don’t want anyone too distracted with expectations. If we win, we win. If we don’t… we’ll still have worked as hard as we could.”

“Shush, don’t you even talk about not winning. You’ve done so well so far. You’re a shoe-in for getting to it. And winning it.”

Jack’s eyes crinkle when he smiles like that. “Yeah? Because you say so?”

“Y-yes,” Bitty says, trying not to feel flustered. “Exactly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

-

 

“Time for a break,” Katya says. She’s frowning, and Bitty knows why. His quads right now are basically just over-rotated triples, and it’s not good enough. 

And that last fall had… not felt great.

He picks himself up and tries not to wince. His shoulder is definitely going to be bruised.

“Go eat something,” Katya says, pointing to the bleachers. “And drink.”

Bitty goes, glad for the chance to sit down. He can’t eat too much, because skating on a full stomach isn’t a good idea, but a handful of cashews and a protein bar (Katya  _ and _ Jack approved) are both welcome, as is the vitamin water.

He checks his phone like he always does. He’s got a text from Jack, telling him to work hard and reminding him to eat said protein bar. Bitty takes a picture of the empty wrapper and sends it along. Jack replies with a  _ good. You need more protein.  _

The surge of affection is…it’s entirely warranted, is the problem.

He skates back onto the ice fifteen minutes later and tries his absolute best, but Katya calls the session early with strict instructions to ice his shoulder for half an hour as soon as he gets back to the Haus.

Bitty says goodbye to Katya, changes in the locker room, and then heads out. 

He’s walking and texting, which he knows isn’t exactly the  _ best _ plan, but Betsy has been acting up again and he’s trying to catch Dex before his twelve o’clock class, and he crashes straight into someone.

“Oh!”

“Kiddo! Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

And then, “I guess you’re still working on that falling practice, eh Bittle?”

Bitty looks up. A very handsome woman in running gear is holding a hand out to him. Jack is there too, also in running gear, and Bitty should’ve been able to tell it was him from his hideous yellow trainers.

Jack introduces them, and George assures him that he didn’t interrupt any real business. She seems smart and nice, and he likes her. And considering she’s the Providence GM, Bitty hopes Jack likes her too. It seems like he does.

The two start up on their run again, but not before Jack shoves Bitty’s cap back on his head. “See you later, Bittle. Head up, alright? Even off the ice.”

Providence  _ really _ isn’t all that far away.

 

-

 

It’s been a week since he’s spoken to his mother.

 

-

 

“Hey y'all! I know it’s been a couple weeks since my last vlog, but I’ve been pretty busy! I’m practicing harder than ever, and school’s kind of kicking my butt. All I gotta say is that there’ve been a lot of late-night baking hours. Even more so, since I don’t have to sneak into the student kitchens to do it--I can just go right downstairs.”

“The boys have all really been wonderful since I’ve moved in--well they were wonderful before that, but it’s like… I really have friends. True friends, who know me and like me and, I think, will be my friends for a long time. That was something I was hopin’ for, with college. And I think I got it. And it’s amazing.”

He twists his fingers in his hands. “Some things have been less than great. I mean, I’m bummed that I’ll be putting off France--though Jack says it’s a good thing I’m waiting another year before I go, since I’ll need that time to for French. Which excuse me Mr. Zimmermann, not all of us can grow up bilingual! But I digress, he has been a huge help so I guess I can stand his chirping. And um, and I haven’t heard back from my parents yet. I’m… I’m just hoping that maybe they need some time to, you know, to acclimate. Get used to the idea, like Katya did. And then it’ll be fine. I… I can only hope that everything’ll be fine. I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“I mean I always knew it was a p-possibility, that they m-might not accept m-me, and that I might have to s-say goodbye to them but god, god I hope. I h-hope so much that I was w-wrong, and that they’ll call me this m-minute and say that they l-love me.”

“I’d g-give a lot to h-hear them s-say that again.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do I do this to myself
> 
> also known as I'm going to smush in ALL THE CANON I CAN
> 
> no seriously, stop me please I don't know where this is going anymore
> 
> (thank you so much for all the comments everyone)

Katya takes a day off to care of some business, but Bitty refuses to give himself a break on a day that he’s technically supposed to be training. His off days are Wednesday and Saturday and today is a Tuesday and thus he needs to be on the ice. And besides, he knows everything he needs to practice, and how to practice for it.

Namely jumps.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Jack suggests when Bitty, panting, lands another over-rotated triple and wobbles on his skates.

“One more,” Bitty manages. “One more good one.” Good ones aren’t quite quads, but they’re close. He’s so close. He’s gotten stronger, a lot stronger, and he was pretty strong when he was passing as a girl. Now he’s lean muscle all over. He still can’t really get enough of his abs. They are washboard. It is amazing.

But that doesn’t really help him now (okay, better abs do, in fact, help him during jumps, that is not the point). He’s been practicing steadily for almost three months now, and honestly it’s one of the things keeping him going. School certainly isn’t, and his parents…

It’s been a month. He hasn’t heard from them yet.

He’s taken out his phone and gotten ready to dial their number so many times he’s lost count, but in the end he always puts it away. He doesn’t want to bother them. If they wanted to talk, they’d call him. Wouldn’t they? His mother has never been shy about calling him or texting him or asking for skype sessions before.

Meanwhile, Jack and the team are getting ready for the frozen four--they keep winning games, and keep getting that much closer, and every time they beat another team, Bitty reminds Jack that “he said so” so of course they’re going to do well. Jack always laughs.

Right now Jack is practicing, because the closer he gets to graduation, the harder he seems to work.

Bitty hates thinking of of graduating, him and Shitty both. Shitty doesn’t really help, what with him and his habit of busting into a room and going, “FUCKING SHIT I’M GRADUATING.”

Jumps. He needs to get this jump. One more good one.

“Hey guys, sup?” Bitty and Jack both swivel on their skates. Holster, Ransom, Shitty, and Lardo have all filed into the rink.

“What’re y'all doing here?”

Ransom waves a samwell flag. “We’re cheering you on, bro!”

“What?”

Holster leans over Ransom’s shoulder. “For you to get that jump thing! It was Shitty’s idea.”

“Yeah! You just need some good ol’ encouragement!”

Lardo shrugs, but she’s smiling.

“Well! Um. Thank you!” He’s not so sure how he feels about having an audience for something he keeps failing at, but hey, he’s gotten used to Jack.

Who is eyeing everybody. “You know, you all could be on the ice with me practicing.”

“Rest day, brah,” Shitty says immediately. “Sides, if I get anymore practice in past what we’re already doing on the regular, I will actually die.”

Jack rolls his eyes, but goes back to doing something tricky-looking with the puck. Bitty has got his breath back anyway, so he gets back to practice. The cheers and whistles do make him smile.

“One more good one,” he murmurs to himself. “One more good one, and I’ll stop.”

He tries to make the jump, and only manages a triple. “One more good one.” He tries again, over-rotated triple. “One more.”

He skates, gathers up speed, takes off, starts to turn--

And he already knows mid-spin that he’s going to land wrong and that it’s going to hurt.

“Holy hell!”

“Did Bitty just--”

“Fucking--”

He hears a general scramble, and then someone is leaning over him.

“ _Bitty._ ”

 

-

 

Jack helps him skate off the ice and barks at everyone to give him space when they all try to crowd around him. Bitty’s shoulder hurts and he knows it’s hanging at an awkward angle. Probably dislocated.

He grits his teeth as he sits down and it gets jostled. Definitely dislocated.

Lardo goes to run for the team trainer, who’s in her office by this time anyway, and Bitty squeezes Jack’s hand and tries to breath.

“Call Katya,” he manages. “Someone call Katya?”

Jack pulls his phone out of his pocket without letting go of Bitty’s hand and hands it to Shitty, who unlocks it. Because of course Jack has Katya’s number, and of course Shitty knows Jack’s phone password. Shitty presses the call button and then gives the phone back to Jack.

“Katya? Yeah, hi, um, Bitty got hurt. He landed a jump wrong and… his shoulder.”

“Tell her it’s dislocated,” Bitty says.

Jack obliges, and assures her that Bitty is going to be taken care of, and that he’ll be resting in the Haus by the time she comes by.

“What about his parents,” Ransom asks, “We should call them--”

Jack presses his lips together and shakes his head as Bitty closes his eyes.

“We’ll go try to clean the Haus up for when Katya comes over,” Holster says quickly. “Keep us updated.”

“‘course,” Shitty says, just as Lardo returns with Cathy, who’s carrying a bottle, an ice pack, and some fabric thing that Bitty thinks is probably a sling. Ransom and Holster give them one last look before hustling out of the rink.

Cathy takes one look at Bitty and says, “Dislocation, when did it happen?”

“Just now,” Jack tells her.

“Okay, okay good. I can pop it back in now, then. Eric, on three okay?”

Bitty nods and squeezes his eyes shut and grips Jack’s hand tightly.

“One.” And she pops it back in.

Bitty lets out a bitten-off scream and then just gasps, breathing through the pain as four pills appear under his nose.

“Anti-inflammatories,” Cathy says. Lardo hands her a water bottle, which she holds out to Bitty.

Bitty has to let go of Jack’s hand to take them, but Jack curls his fingers back around his own as soon as he’s done. Cathy quickly and methodically puts his arm into the sling and is applying the ice pack before things can hurt too much more.

Cathy gives him instructions on how to take care of his shoulder, how to rest it for the next few days, that he should keep the sling on for about a week, maybe two depending how he’s feeling, and that he should come back to check in with her or with the campus medical facility. No sports or heavy lifting for at least four to six weeks, maybe longer.

Bitty could cry. It’s a huge set-back. He needs all the practice time he can get and--and skating is what he _has_ right now.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay. Thank you.”

“How is he getting back to the dorms?”

“Not the dorms,” Jack says, “The Haus.”

Cathy frowns. “That’s too far for him to walk right now.”

“S’cool,” Shitty says, “I’ll tell Holster to come by with his car.”

Cathy nods. “Alright, fine. Keep me updated, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“Feel better, Eric.”

Bitty nods. “Thank you.”

Cathy goes back to her office, but Jack stops Shitty when he pulls out his phone.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’ll just carry him.”

“Carry him,” Lardo says flatly. “All the way to the Haus. How.”

Jack shrugs. “Piggyback. He can hold on with his free arm, and I’ll brace. It won’t be hard.”

Bitty sniffs and gives Jack a watery smile, “That’s okay, I can wait--”

“I bench twice what you weigh,” Jack says matter-of-factly. “Come on.”

 

-

 

Bitty does somehow make it back to the Haus in one piece, and Holster helps get him steady when he gingerly climbs off Jack’s back. Katya’s called to say that she’s a few minutes away, and Jack follows Bitty up to his room, waits for him to get settled on his bed.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Bitty nods. He’s moved past the pain and the heartache and gone straight into feeling numb. It’s March. He’s going to lose a month of practice, maybe more, and regionals are in September. That’s not very far away, for what he needs to accomplish.

“Can I--do anything?”

“No. Thanks, but… no. There’s nothing you can do.”

He watches Jack swallow and nod, and then carefully move to sit down to Bitty on the bed. He holds out his hand.

Bitty grabs it and hangs on tight.

 

-

 

Katya comes into Bitty room, striding in purposefully and frowning down at Bitty’s sling.

“How bad was it?”

“Minor dislocation,” Bitty tells her. “Cathy popped my shoulder back into place not even ten minutes after it happened.

“How?”

“I… I was practicing my quad jumps.”

“Without me.”

“I’m sorry,” Bitty whispers, staring at his lap.

Katya shakes her head. “No, zaichik, I’m sorry. This is a setback. You will need to let your shoulder rest and recover. Two weeks, no skating. Six weeks no jumping. Maybe more, we shall see. I will plan for you to start practice up in earnest again in May.”

“Katya--”

“You are hurt. Nothing will come of trying to get better when it will only make you worse. No skating for two weeks. After that, we shall talk and I will see what you are able to do. No jumps until May.”

“I… yes. Yes, okay. I’m sorry.”

Katya sighs. “I know you were trying your hardest. And you will continue to do so. We will start practicing your jumps again in May. And then all summer, you have no school so we will work and keep working. We will train your long and short programs to perfection, and you will win at regionals. By nationals, you will have your quads.”

Something unclenches in Bitty’s gut, at Katya’s unwavering confidence in him. She’s an excellent coach and has made it clear many times in the past that if she didn’t think Bitty was worth it, she wouldn’t be wasting her time.

Katya thought Bitty was worth it. She accepted him as Eric and decided he would still compete. She relocated to Boston for who-knows-how-long to train him.

He’s going to be worthy of her too.

“Okay,” he says, swallowing. “May. And I get to skate before then, right?”

“To keep your legs moving, you can skate again in two weeks. Four weeks, if your shoulder is better, you may work on speed. And jumps in May.”

“Jumps in May,” Bitty repeats, clinging to that.

 

-

 

He’s just dozed off, adrenaline and exhaustion making a nap seem like a very good idea, when his phone rings, startling him back upright. He gropes for it with his right hand (and thinks at least, at least, it was his left arm) and feels a mixture of elation and dread when he sees the _mama_ flash on his screen.

“H-hello?”

“Ro--Ver--”

Bitty swallows and saves her. “Hi, mama. How um, how are you and Coach?”

“We’re... we’re fine. I…” her voice sounds wet. “I missed you, sweetheart.”

_You could have called me. You could have contacted me at any time. You could have--_ “I, um, I missed you too. I…” Bitty clenches his hand around his phone. “Did you… finish thinking about things?”

There is a long moment of silence. Bitty even checks his phone to see if they’ve been disconnected.

“Katya called me,” his mother says eventually.

“...oh.”

“She said… she said you got hurt.”

“I did.” _You’d know that if you’d cared to talk to me. If I thought I could talk to you. I would have had Jack call you as soon as I’d skated off the ice._ “Um. I dislocated my shoulder. No skating for two to four weeks.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. Are you okay?”

“No,” Bitty says. It slips out of him before he can pull it back. “No, I’m not. I’m hurt, and I’m scared, and I miss you.”

“I-I miss you too, Ro--”

“My name is Eric _,_ mother!” His breath comes in sharp pants as he pushes forward. “Eric Richard Bittle. I named myself after Pawpaw and Daddy, because I love them, and I--I wanted to be a good man, like them, and I wanted them to keep being a part of me even if I was a disappointment. Even if--” his voice breaks “Even if you stopped loving me.”

“Honey,” she sounds upset and it isn’t fair, it isn’t _fair,_ “I--”

“It’s been over a month.” He’s so tired. “It’s been over a month, mama. How much longer would you have needed to think, if Katya hadn’t yelled at you?” Because he knows Katya. He knows what she must have done.

There is silence.

“My teachers call me Eric,” he says at last. “Katya calls me Eric. I’m going to compete in regionals this year as Eric. And… and that’s not going to change. I’m not going to change. I tried so hard and hated myself for so long and I’m happy now, I’m _happy_ , mama.”

Still nothing.

“I… I love you.”

There is no response.

He hangs up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are seriously giving me life, guys. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings with me. And I'm so happy you're continuing to like this story.
> 
> But I also have no idea how or when this thing is gonna end.

Life is miserable without skating to focus on. Bitty’s diligent about wearing the sling and being as careful as he can and following all directions in the hopes that he’ll heal faster because without skating he doesn’t have anything _left_ and he gets the sling off a week and a half later.

He’s still not allowed to get on the ice for another four days, but he can do it. The better he follows instructions, the better everything will be.

The team goes to play in the frozen four.

And then they come back.

Jack spends the next few days quiet. He mostly stays in his room, only leaving for class and practice. Every night, Bitty brings up something and quietly knocks on Jack’s door, leaving the tray on the floor and high-tailing it to his room.

The tray is always left on the kitchen table when Bitty comes down the next morning.

 

-

 

Bitty is given the go-ahead to skate, and he spends the afternoon on cloud nine. It’s something. It’s something, and soon he’ll be better. Katya had been pleased. He’d told the team chat and it had blown up, everyone super excited for him. Or maybe excited for the maple apple pie he said he’d be making in celebration.

He saves a slice before everyone gets to it and, as he’s done for the last couple nights, puts the plate on a tray with a fork and goes up to Jack’s door. He knocks, and is bending down to set the tray on the floor when the door opens.

“Oh,” Bitty says, standing up again. “Hi, Jack.”

“Hi.”

Jack looks tired. He’s clean-shaven again, and Bitty feels awful. “How… how are you feeling?”

“...not great.”

“Can I come in?’

Jack nods, and steps back to let Bitty inside. Bitty sets the tray on Jack’s bed, then goes to sit in his desk chair as Jack takes a seat on his bed next to the tray.

After a few moments, Bitty gets up and joins Jack on the bed, to put his arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”

Jack’s hand comes up to rest on Bitty’s arm and pull him a little closer.

 

-

 

“Bittle,” Jack says, after they’re taking a skating break. Bitty is back to working on speed. May isn’t that far off, and he’s antsy to start working on jumps again. Katya said she’d give him the go-ahead in two more weeks, if she thinks he’s healed up enough. Bitty plans to be healed up enough.

“Yeah?”

He watches Jack swallow and then bend down to unlace his skates. “Annie’s?”

“Um, sure.”

Jack is quiet on the walk over, and Bitty tries to tamp down how nervous he feels. They’ve done this a hundred times; gone to Annie’s together. But something about Jack seems unsettled, and it’s making Bitty nervous.

“Want to find a seat?” Jack asks, before he heads over to order. By now he knows Bitty’s go-to drink, even if he continually makes fun of him for it. But sweet coffee drinks are one of life’s pleasure, so Bitty takes the teasing and enjoys.

When Jack comes over a few minutes later, Bitty curls his hands around his caramel macchiato and waits.

Jack takes a deep breath, then says, “I’ve signed with Providence. I’m going to be a Falconer.”

“Oh, Jack…”

“I wanted to tell you first. I-I wanted to… I’m really happy with the team, and what I think they can offer me. And um, and I wanted to let you know that I’ll be close by. After graduation.”

Bitty’s throat is tight and his voice is thick when he says, “Thank you for telling me, Jack. And I’m so, so happy for you.”

Jack smiles. “Yeah, uh, thanks. I’m really looking forward to it. They’re good people and they play good hockey. I’m lucky I’ll get to be a part of it.”

“And they’re going to be lucky to have you,” Bitty replies, matching Jack’s smile.

“Thanks, Bittle.”

“So, how are you going to tell Shitty and the guys?”

Jack shrugs. “Probably through group chat, get it out fastest that way. And Shitty’s in a lecture right now.”

“Only you, Mr. Zimmermann, would decide to share such big news over text.”

“Haha, I told you in person, didn’t I?”

“...that you did.”

 

-

 

With all the hooplah of the dislocated shoulder, and then the team competing in the frozen four, and then Jack’s news, Bitty has sort of been ignoring his twitter. He still checks it, occasionally does tweet when he can’t stop himself, but he’s always careful about what he talks about and how. He’s also been very cautious about mentioning skating or answering any questions that have to do with it.

But his parents know, have known, and that was the scariest thing Bitty’s ever done. Now that that’s over, now that he’s training again, he decides it’s time everyone else, _really_ everyone else, were told. He’s tired of hiding. He’s tired of his twitter friends talking about what a good female skater he is, his fans praising him when he knows a lot of them are interested guys.

 **Kissandcryplease:** Hey everybody. I’ve got a few things I wanted to say. It’s gonna take a while, so bear with me, okay?

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease first of all, I know I mentioned possibly returning to the competition circuit.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease I’m stating now that yes, that’s true. I’ll be competing in regionals this September. I’m hoping to place, obviously!

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease but there’s something else I gotta say. And it’s a hard thing for me TO say, but it needs to be done.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease I won’t be competing in the female division. I’ll be competing in the men’s, w/ permission. B/c I’m trans. I’m a trans male

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease It took me a lot of time to come to terms with it, because it’s so, so scary to be different.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease trans people face a lot of prejudice and violence, and I was also terrified I was maybe doing the WRONG thing.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease that I just hadn’t tried hard enough to be happy as a girl.  That I wasn’t allowed to be happy. That I didn’t deserve it.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease I know a lot of you will feel disappointed or angry at me b/c I’m different, you don’t understand, or think that I’m wrong

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease of course, I’d love it if people kept showing their support for me, and focused on my skating not my body.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease I also understand that that’s mostly wishful thinking.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease and I’m going to say this now, b/c it needs to be said; my parents haven’t been supportive. And I miss them so, so much.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease but I hope my coming out might make things easier for other people to do the same, even in sports, where it is so hard.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease and if any of you have ever felt lost or scared. For this reason or any others, I’m here if you need to talk.

 **Kissandcryplease:** @kissandcryplease My name is Eric Richard Bittle, and I’m trans. I’m a boy. And I have never been happier in my entire life.

 

-

 

His entire thread gets screencapped and shared. His own tweets get dozens of likes and re-tweets. He gains nearly ten thousand new followers in two hours.

 

-

 

 **Inabrow1:** @kissandcryplease is one of my closest friends in the skating circuit, and I stand with him.

 **Inabrow1:** @kissandcryplease I only wish that he had felt comfortable telling me earlier.

 **Inabrow1:** @kissandcryplease and I’m not going to see him in sectionals so he better make it to regionals!!!

 

-

 

 **DM, impvalens:** Hey, um, I wanted to just tell you how much your tweets meant to me. I’m not really into skating or anything, but I came across them and, well. Thank you. I hope things are okay for you. I’m sorry about your parents.

 **DM, impvalens:** I’m probably going to get into skating now, just to keep up with you. I don’t know if any of the competitions are televised or anything, but I’ll be rooting for you either way.

 **DM, impvalens:** Thank you so much.

 

-

 

 **Realjackzimmermann:** I’m not so good at twittering, since I don’t use this website much.

 **Realjackzimmermann:** But I wanted to say how proud I am of @kissandcryplease. And how brave I think he is.

 

-

 

 **Jwirey:** @kissandcryplease DO YOU REALIZE HOW MANY CUTE AND SPARKLY PANTSUITS YOU CAN WEAR NOW

 

-

 

May brings some great things, namely that Bitty is able to work on his skating in earnest again, but it also means… it also means that Jack and Shitty graduate.

The ceremony is pretty long, but Bitty holds it together and cheers as loud as anyone when Shitty and Jack accept their diplomas. Afterwards, it’s a flurry of talking to everyone and their families, congratulations, and hugging Jack tight. It’s amazing that he’ll be in Providence, but it still won’t be the same as having him live across the hall. Being able to see him every day, skating together, going out to Annie’s, and (even) studying French.

“Bye, Jack.”

He has to head back to the Haus after that, so no one can see him crying.

Once he gets back home, he plugs in his pre-skate playlist and starts to unpack Chowder’s room, just to give himself something to do. Chowder had asked for help anyway, and it keeps Bitty’s hands busy, even if his mind is in turmoil. Besides, he doesn’t have anything to pack up, since he’s staying over the summer. He wishes--

He’s going to miss Jack. He’s going to miss Jack. He’s going to miss--

“Bittle.”

“Hello! ...Hello? Jack?” He turns to face him. Jack’s still in his graduation gown and “Oh my goodness-- why are--is everything all _right?_ You’re outta breath! You could have texted--”

“Bitty.”

Bitty stops. Jack is looking at him like… like he…

Jack puts on hand on Bitty’s shoulder, curls the other around his waist, and Bitty is frozen, can’t think, is Jack--does Jack really--

Jack kisses him.

Bitty closes his eyes and savors.

 

-

 

Bitty doesn’t know how long they kiss for before Jack’s phone goes off.

Jack pulls away a fraction and frowns down at his phone. “I gotta go.”

How is this even real. “Okay.”

“I gotta go,” Jack says again, looking like he wants to do anything but. “But I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay.”

They stare at each, and Bitty knows that he, at least, hates the fact that they’re going to be apart now that...

They meet each other for the next kiss.

“I’ll text you,” Jack repeats, sounding torn, and Bitty’s heart leaps at the fact that Jack sounds about as flustered as Bitty feels.

“Okay.”

Bitty watches him go, then slowly lowers himself into the room’s wooden chair.

His phone buzzes.

It’s Jack.


	11. Chapter 11

May turns into June. Bitty is busy, or tries to be. It’s harder being by himself in the Haus instead of back at home, but there are, at least, some things he’s able to do (and be) at Samwell that would never have been possible in Georgia. He’s training everyday now, pushing himself as far as he can without another risk of injury. He’s learned his lesson about that.

Katya is wonderful. She’s brusque and works him hard but it’s exactly what Bitty needs.

And Jack--he’s there even with what is a busy training schedule. He and Bitty skype every night, sometimes just to say goodnight, and they talk on the phone too, whenever they get a chance. 

Even as July approaches, which is another chronic ache, Bitty is happy.

The outpouring of love from twitter has also helped, and his followers are quick to jump on any transphobic comments that pop up. He’s showered with encouragement and people eagerly looking forward to him competing again. Enough so that he starts a separate youtube channel for his skating fans. He keeps baking and the more personal stuff (including the little bits about his boyfriend) to his first channel (and he’d be silly to think it’ll stay hidden for much longer but for now...), but he updates people about skating practice, talking about his recent injury, his struggle to get his quads, and of course, a little bit about his transition. But only a little. Mostly he talks about how much happier he is, and how supportive everyone has been.

He and Jack start making plans for the Fourth. Bitty’s going to take the week to spend with Jack in Providence, bake up a storm, they’ll see fireworks together and Bitty will absolutely not think of Georgia.

June 19th he’s editing his latest video while waiting on a skype call from Jack, when he gets the sound of someone logging on. He eagerly goes to say hi to Jack only to stop cold, fingers hovering over his mouse.

Moomawbittle has just logged on.

Bitty remembers helping his Moomaw set up a skype account, showing her where the webcam was on her laptop and how to sign in. She didn’t use it much--in fact he’s never seen her online before. Mostly they’d talked on the phone, but he hasn’t called her since his mother… 

She never called him either, so Bitty just assumed--

He accepts the call.

“--this damn fool thing better work so help me, or I’ll--”

“Moomaw?”

She looks up over the top of her glasses. “So there you are,” she says softly.

Bitty swallows. His face has definitely sharpened into angles even if he still looks younger than he is. He knows he looks more masculine. And he’s not wearing makeup to hide. “H-hello, Moomaw.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long while, so Bitty just drinks her in, memorizes her face. It’s been so long since he’s seen her in person and he… he hadn’t expected to ever see her again. Even if it’s the last time, even if she’s telling him he’s going to hell, he’s going to count it as a blessing.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she says eventually. “I was thinkin’, and the longer I thought, the more mixed up I got and before you know it, it’s June and I’m making plans for July and--and no one had talked about you comin’ back home.”

Bitty twists his fingers together. He doesn’t know what to say. Moomaw has to know about how his parents feel. Maybe even more than Bitty does. For all he knows, they’ve spoken about him. Moomaw does, at least, know about him. And being a him.

“I don’t know if they want me back home,” he eventually says, voice cracking as he forces out the words. He’s thought it over and over, wishing things were different, that he could be different, that he could’ve just been happy the way he’d  _ been _ but. He’s never said the words aloud. That his parents don’t want him anymore.

“Well,” Moomaw says, voice still soft. “I can’t change their minds, sweetheart. I don’t know what’s going on in them, and I’ll tell you right now that your home hasn’t been a happy one.” Then she leans forward. “But I’ll tell you right now that you’re my grandchild, come hell or high water. And whatever you have to be to be happy, that’s--that’s fine. It’ll just take a little gettin’ used to.”

Bitty swallows again. He can’t say anything because if he does, he’s going to start sobbing. Instead he nods, wipes his eyes that are watering despite himself.

Moomaw seems to understand -and she always does, has always been so good about doing so- because she doesn’t wait for a response, just keeps going. “Now, my home is open to you for July, but I’m not about to ask you to come down when things aren’t...welcoming. Not unless you want to.”

“Okay,” Bitty whispers trying to get his voice back

“You...you have people up there? Friends?”

He nods. “I--Katya’s here.”

“Really!” She smiles. It’s good news. “Whatever for?”

“She’s training me. Um, I’m going to be competing in the fall. As a--as a boy.”

“That’s allowed?”

“Um, yes. It’s um, it’s all medically sanctioned and...yes. It’s allowed.”

“Well I’ll be. Good for you. I’ll--I’ll be cheerin’ you on, honey.”

“Thank you.”

“And? Katya’s wonderful, but she’s not the only one, is she?”

Bitty shakes his head. “I’ve um, I’ve got a friend. Jack Zimmermann? I’ve um, remember? I’ve talked about him?”

She looks at him sharply over the top of her glasses. “I remember. Didn’t he graduate?”

“Y-yes. But he moved to Providence, which isn’t so far away. He invited me to spend the week of the Fourth with him.”

“Did he now.” She’s smiling again. That’s good. That’s good, right? She’s smiling.

“Yes ma’am. Jack’s Canadian. He hasn’t ever had a proper July before. So I said I’d teach him a thing or two. And so, uh, that’s what’s happening.”

“I see. Well, good. Glad you got some family up there too.”

“I do, Moomaw. They’ve all been s-so w-wonderful to m-me.” He rubs at his eyes. “I miss home every day b-but I’ve got such amazing f-friends and I’m so ha-happy n-now. I’m so happy.”

“Oh sweetheart. Oh sweetheart, I’m so glad.” She reaches out, as if to touch the screen. “That’s enough. That’s enough for me. That you’re happy.”

He sniffs, tries to smile for her. “I love you, Moomaw.”

“I love you too, honey. Now...who am I supposed to address mail to?”

“Eric.” He’s gotten better at saying it. “Eric Richard Bittle.”

“Really.”

“Y-yes.”

She takes a breath. “It’s a good name.”

 

-

 

“Hey y’all! It’s been a flurry of a week, let me tell you. It’s plain weird for the Haus to be so quiet, but I’m getting a lot of experimenting done. A lot of souffle has been in my life these past few days. That bein’ said, I keep forgetting I don’t have a Haus full of hungry hockey players to eat the things I make. But it’s been fine; I went and found a bunch of summer-student study groups and have been plying people with baked goods. Got my own little side business going on. Obviously I’m not doing it for the money, but it’s been making a difference. More than I expected, to tell the truth. I don’t know if I’d be able to keep up with it during the school year between school and practice, and besides, I  _ will _ get those hungry hockey players back eventually. But it’s somethin’ I’ve been thinking about. Going around selling baked goods.”

“I know some of y’all have asked if I wanted to open up a bakery, and the answer has always been heavens yes and dear god no. Baker’s hours? Trying to run a storefront? Baking is something I love and love to do, but I’m not sure how I feel about being tied down to one location and being an entrepreneur. That’s a lot of time and money for something that, on record, often folds after a few years. But going around to places...the campus has some food trucks that come by on the regular. That got me thinkin’ a bit. It’d be less of an investment, and more of an opportunity to experiment.”

“But I still don’t know. I know I want to do something with food eventually--I can’t keep skating forever. But I like running this here blog and coaching kids and I want time for both of those things. To tell the truth, I’ve been thinking about coaching a whole lot too. Katya’s really changed my life, you know? I wonder if I couldn’t be that person to someone else. Maybe even someone like me, who just needs a chance. And if I keep up my title and placing…”

“Well! That’s neither here nor there. I’m still working on that dang toe loop, and that’s the first thing to focus on. Everything else is long term. Very long term. And I’m still young yet. I don’t have to make a decision for another while. Skating takes the focus right now. Skating and school. Everything else can wait.”

“But back to souffles, because you’ll like this. I didn’t have any souffle cups, and they’re a pretty penny new, so I went to a local thrift store and checked out their dishware section. Didn’t find any souffle cups but! I found a twelve-piece mug set that’s -wait for it- oven safe. So mug souffles! Perfect and perfectly portable--”

 

-

 

June 30th and Jack is patiently waiting for Bitty at Faber as Bitty gets in one last practice before they leave to drive to Providence for the week. Bitty promised Katya (and himself) that he’d take the entire first week of July off to rest and recover before getting back into training in earnest. It’s a trick Katya has made him do before--stop all activity for a select period of time and then you’re refreshed and your body is ready to work even harder. Personally Bitty thinks he relaxed plenty from when he hurt himself, but one does not argue with Katya’s training regimen.

So it’s the 30th, and he’s skating in circles while Jack sits in the stands with Bitty’s bag. They’d agreed on two hours before Bitty changes and they head to Jack’s car, and Bitty’s got fifteen more minutes and he needs to make them count.

It helps that Jack is sitting there, watching him, believing in him. It helps to know he’s there. That Katya believes in him. That the whole of Samwell’s Men’s hockey team does. 

That Moomaw does.

She’s already sent him two things in the mail. One was a pie tin, a dented old thing, with a scratch in the bottom that denoted it was from her personal collection. It’s going to be one of his treasures. It’s packed to take with him to Providence.

He sets up for the toe loop, takes off, spins one-

Two-

Three-

Four times.

Lands.

His legs are shaky and he looks up at Jack, eyes wide. Jack stares back at him, before he breaks into a brilliant smile. “Bits!” Then he’s standing up and running to the arena entrance. “Bits! That was four!”

“I did it,” Bitty breathes, barely daring to believe it. “Jack--Jack--” He’s skating towards him, and Jack opens his arms. Bitty leaps into them but Jack doesn't buckle even a little. “Jack,” he says over and over, hanging on tight. “Jack, I can do it. I can do it!” It’s possible. He did it once. He’ll be able to do it again. His body will remember.

“I know.” Jack presses a kiss to his hair. “Bitty, I’m so, so proud of you.”

It’s the perfect way to start July.


	12. Chapter 12

It’s a little weird being in Jack’s place, knowing he’s going to spend a full week with him actually living there. Bitty’s visited before, and he has spent a few nights over, but always in the guestroom because he just, well...he doesn’t bind at night because sleeping in a binder is the worst idea. He’s comfortable with Jack. He is--probably more than he’s ever been comfortable with anyone. Jack accepts him completely and Bitty is so, so lucky to have him.

But…

He has his issues. Bitty knows they _are_ issues and he battles with them every day. He’s getting better, taking his time with baby steps. Everyone who supports him has been encouraging and incredibly appreciated.

Still.

Maybe he can take another step.

That night, after they’re done with dinner and settled in to watch some TV cuddled around each other, Bitty takes a deep breath and sits up.

“I’ll be right back,” he says in a rush. He can do this. He _wants_ to do this. Wants to be able to do this.

“Okay,” Jack says easily. “I’ll pause it till you come back.”

“Right. Okay. Um, thank you.”

Bitty goes to the guestroom, where Jack had put his bag, and grabs it up, pulling out a big t-shirt and pair of sleep shorts he’d brought with him. He undresses quickly, fingers shaking as he pulls his binder over his head. He’s doing this. He’s doing this.

He takes it off, sets it down on the bed. For a second his hand hovers over the sports bra he’d packed for the Providence ice time Jack had promised (nothing too strenuous, Katya had made Bitty _swear)_ , but he snatches it away, fingers balling into a fist.

Jack won’t care. Jack won’t care. Jack won’t--

He pulls on the shirt and the shorts, lets out a long breath, and then leaves the room to go back to the living room and to where Jack is.

“Um,” Bitty says, as he moves to the couch. “I, um, I changed into my pjs. If that’s okay.”

Jack blinks at him. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“Um.” Bitty does not cross his arms over his chest. He wants to, but he doesn’t. Jack won’t care.

“Here,” Jack says, standing up. “I’ll change too.” He smiles at Bitty. “Get comfortable, okay? I’ll just take a second.”

“Okay.”

Bitty takes a seat on the couch, perching there, trying not to feel too uncomfortable. He misses Jack already and desperately wants to be held and comforted, but part of him also doesn’t want to be touched.

It’s fine. He’s taking another step. Sometimes steps are just hard to take. Your feet get bogged down with worry.

When Jack comes back into the room, he sits down on the couch next to Bitty but not touching him. He does sling a hand over the back of the couch, leaving a spot right where Bitty could tuck up into, if he wanted to. An invitation and nothing more.

Bitty swallows and pushes closer, turning into Jack’s chest. “Thanks,” he says, voice muffled.

Jack strokes a hand down his back. “It’s okay,” he says. Bitty could kiss him for not asking ‘what for?’ “It’s okay. What do you need?”

“Let’s just watch TV.” Everything is normal. _Bitty_ is normal. “And then, um, maybe we could go to bed?”

Jack kisses his hair. “Sounds good to me.”

 

-

 

Jack kisses him goodnight outside the guestroom door and then smiles down at him. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He says it with such warmth, like he can’t help it coloring his voice with how happy he is. Like he’s the lucky one, to have Bitty in his life.

Bitty pulls him down for another long kiss. Moves back, smiles too. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

-

 

“I still cannot believe you don’t own a standing mixer,” Bitty says. It hadn’t mattered before; he’d only ever just spent a night or two with Jack, maybe a weekend, and he’d just hand-mixed. But it was the Fourth of July here. There _needed_ to be a plethora of baked goods. Which meant a standing mixer.

“I was waiting for you to get one with me,” Jack says matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t know which one to choose.”

“Honestly, Jack. Amazon? You could’ve gone by reviews.”

“I wanted to get one I knew you’d like,” Jack says stubbornly. “So that meant waiting for you to buy one with me.”

Bitty rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling anyway. This boy. “Alright, sure. Where we going?”

“There’s a Williams-Sonoma at the mall. Would that work? It sounded like a pretty good place.”

“Pretty good--” Bitty gasps. “Jack!”

“What?”

Bitty sputters. “There are _perfectly good_ standing mixers available that don’t cost _hundreds of dollars.”_

Jack shrugs. “I just want to get you the best one. What’s the best one?”

“I--you--”

“It’s a holiday present,” Jack says straight-faced. “For the Fourth. That’s allowed.”

...Bitty’s not going to win this argument.

 

-

 

“Alright, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty says, tying his apron around his waist. Jack had bought one and presented it to Bitty the first time he’d visited. It said _cooking is my cardio_ and Jack’s grin when Bitty had opened it, _well._ Bitty had signed up for chirps. And they made Jack happy, so. “Are you ready to learn how to bake the best darn apple pie you’ve ever made?”

“I’ve never really made any apple pie before though,” Jack points out.

“Oh hush. You’ve helped me out plenty of times.”

“Helped.”

“And now you’re going to put my teaching’s to use. And we’re starting with good ol’ fashioned pie crust. Make it, chill it, make the filling, let that cool, and then combine.”

“Easy as pie?” Jack asks with a grin.

“Exactly.”

 

-

 

“Whoever came up with the phrase ‘easy as pie’ must’ve had something else in mind.”

“Oh hush, it’s not that bad.”

“I’m ruining it, I don’t know why you’re trusting me with--”

“For pity’s sake Jack, it’s just one little pie. If it comes out a little lopsided--”

“You banned Nursey from the kitchen for a week when he burned your filling.”

“Alright a, he burned my filling. B, that was because he was busy poking at Dex. And c, he burned my filling. This is just the lattice work. It don’t have to be pretty, it just has to taste good.”

“What are you talking about? Your pies always look like they came out of a magazine. Better.”

“Aw, sweetheart.”

 

-

 

And, outside the guestroom, “Goodnight, Bits. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Bitty wants more. Why can’t he let himself have it? “‘night, Jack.”

 

-

 

Jack and Bitty had agreed that they’d only have a few days with private ice time, so that neither of them would be tempted to overtrain. Since it’s July, the rink isn’t very busy, even if it’s family skate. Most people are away on vacation, or want to do other things for the Fourth weekend. But there are still several groups of skaters, some families, some partners, some solo. There’re a pair of woman with a little girl and boy who are skating with chairs. Bitty can’t help but smile when he sees them.

Jack still pauses before they get on the ice. “Now remember, you promised Katya that you’d take it easy.”

“I know, I know. No quad practice.” _Here, anyway,_ Bitty thinks. He’s going to do a little bit during the private ice time. Just a few minutes of practice. He’s done it once and he wants to do it again so badly he can barely stand it. Jack will understand. So will Katya. Probably.

But no, here at the rink now it’s just for fun. They’ll play, maybe race, just skate next to each other.

Bitty’s wearing his sports bra, but he’s with Jack and that’s what’s important. Strangers don’t matter.

They don’t.

They warm up by skating a few laps together, and then Jack grins and speed up just a little. “Oh no you didn’t,” Bitty says, matching his pace and then some. Jack just goes a little faster, and then so does Bitty, and eventually they’re laughing as they speed skate in loops around the rink. Bitty sees the perfect opening for a jump and a clear spot to do it, and he’s having so much fun that he just goes. Nothing fancy, just a triple into a double into a broken leg spin because he did _promise._

He’s breathless with laughter and general happiness that he only barely registers the sound of clapping as Jack skates up to him, grinning.

“Wow!” One of the women call as the children stare at him. “That was amazing.”

Bitty rubs the back of his neck, but he’s grinning too. This is it. This is what it feels like to be out of his little Samwell bubble and still be a person that he’s happy with.

 

-

 

They go out for lunch once they’re done at the rink, a nice little deli that Bitty had found on yelp. Plenty of options, especially for Jack who needed, frankly, a ridiculous amount of food.

Bitty’s perfectly happy with his dinty moore. It’s good too--the corned beef is on point. He’ll have to give a review himself.

“Hey.” He puts down his sandwich.

Jack looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been having really good time.”

Jack smiles. “Yeah? Me too.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Bitty had maybe been a tad worried about that. Jack’s been giving him so _much_ and--

“Bits,” Jack touches Bitty’s hand with his. “I’ve been having a really good time. Thank you for spending it with me.”

 

-

 

At one am, wide awake and thrumming with nerves, Bitty decides to try being brave again.

It takes him a few minutes to work up the courage to get out of bed, but then he’s suddenly up, phone in hand, and walking to Jack’s room.

He opens the door slowly, trying not to be disruptive, before he realizes how stupid that is--he’s going to be waking Jack up anyway. But for some reason it’s easier to be quiet. It’s always been easier to be quiet, keep his head down, try not to be noticed. He’s working on it.

“Jack?” he creeps over to the bed. “Jack?”

Jack rolls over, opens his eyes. “Bits?” It’s a low exhale, before he starts to sit up. “Is something wrong?”

Bitty shakes his head. “No, I--no, nothing’s--can...can I get in with you?”

Jack’s eyes widen, and then he’s moving over, pulling the covers back. “Yeah. Yeah, come on in.”

Bitty places his phone on the nightstand and climbs into the bed. Jack gives him a good foot of space, but he does turn onto his side, watching Bitty in the dark.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Y-yeah?”

“This is enough. This is enough for me. Whatever you want to do, it’ll be enough for me.”

It’s too early for _I love yous_ , but Bitty thinks it just the same.

 

-

 

The next night, Bitty follows Jack to his room. “Okay?” he asks, fidgeting by the bed.

“Of course. Always.”

Bitty swallows and smiles and gets in.

 

-

 

The night after that, he’s ready to try kisses without his binder on. Jack is careful and gentlemanly, and skates his hands down Bitty’s sides, completely avoiding Bitty’s chest. He brushes a sliver of Bitty’s skin when Bitty’s shirt hikes up, and yanks his hand away.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m really--”

“It’s okay,” Bitty says, surprising himself. Because it was. And-- “Maybe...maybe do it again?”

Jack pushes hesitant fingers under the hem of Bitty’s shirt, just underneath his lowest rib, and strokes there with his thumb. Bitty exhales shakily and closes his eyes.

“Do you like that?” Jack murmurs.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I--I like skin on skin.”

Jack presses a kiss to Bitty’s jaw, and Bitty brings his hands up to hold him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

-

 

When Bitty wakes up next, it’s probably around four in the morning. Jack is curled around him, pressed against his back, and one hand is low on Bitty’s stomach.

And it’s okay.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all the lovely comments. They mean so much to me, you have no idea.
> 
> Now.
> 
> Let's get this party started.

The rest of July is filled with practice, practice, and more practice. In between, Bitty and Jack talk as often as they can. Jack’s not traveling yet, so it’s easier to spend time with him, both on skype and in person. They can’t go on actual dates, not ones where they hold hands or kiss in public, but they can go grocery shopping and eat out and watch movies and  _ be _ with each other. That’s enough for Bitty.

He spends the night several more times. Gets more comfortable each time. Jack is amazing and patient and Bitty, well, he just. He just plain ol’ wants to be with him and around him. And he  _ gets _ to be.

By the time it turns August, Bitty is able to change into sleeping clothes at night without hesitation, wander around Jack’s apartment in them, curl up against Jack, kiss him, sleep with him, without worry or self-doubt. Jack will sometimes brush his fingers along the bottoms of Bitty’s ribs, hike up his shirt just that little bit to do so, or skate up and down Bitty’s back where it’s safe. The contact is so nice that sometimes Bitty wonders what--what it would be like if he were able to take a few more steps. But those are thoughts he tucks down and away.

He does, on the other hand, spend a lot of time thinking about touching  _ Jack. _ Making him feel good. Jack likes kissing, really likes it when Bitty slides into his lap or splays out on top of him (and Bitty doesn’t linger over the fact that his chest is, well, more present when he’s in that position, he doesn’t). He’ll get hard and Bitty can feel it, but he never pushes, though sometimes he does apologize and ask to stop.

Of course, they always do but. Sometimes Bitty doesn’t want to. Wants to be able to give him more. Take another step.

 

-

 

“Hey y’all! Happy new-semester. Or, well, kinda. On the one hand, it’s great to have everyone back at the Haus--including Lardo, it is gonna be an absolute joy to have her livin’ across the hall from me. On the other hand, classes are only getting harder, and it’s around the time for me to declare my major. So here it is; American History, with a focus on food studies. Now, don’t even  _ ask _ me what I’m gonna be doing with that degree. I just figure that college was for the experience you know? And so far it’s been a wonderful one. Graduation...trying not to think too hard about that right now.”

“I am of course--it crosses everyone’s mind. Ransom and Holster have been going back and forth for days about their futures and plans. Me? Still looking forward to going to France next summer, since I switched my abroad study to then because, well. You know. Competition.”

“Speaking of, the season’s started. I’m working as hard as I can, and Kaya’s been an absolute nightmare; it’s the best. I’ve well and truly got that toe loop now, which means I’ve got at least one quad in my repertoire. Which means we’ve altered my routine slightly. Katya thinks I have a better chance of winning if I have at least one quad and I agree so...I’ve been working on it.”

“Just a few more weeks. Whatever happens, this semester’s gonna have a lotta ups and downs, I think.”

 

-

 

Bitty is spending another night at Jack’s place, and they’re winding down from a really nice day. Jack had gone out for his morning run and he’d come home to Bitty making Belgian waffles (because Jack had gotten a waffle iron, because he seemed to enjoy collecting kitchen gadgets like Moomaw collected pie tins) with fruit and homemade whipped cream. After breakfast Jack had made Bitty study some French (Jack did this sneaky thing where he’d switch to French randomly in the middle of a conversation and wouldn’t switch back to English for at least a few sentences) and compliment Bitty profusely on how far he’d come with pronunciation.

After Bitty’s blush had gone down, Jack had kissed him goodbye and gone off to train (taking his homemade lunch with him), leaving Bitty to putter around and whip up some more baked goods (and maybe do some homework). Then Jack came back to take Bitty out for ice time, they’d had dinner together...it was all so simple and domestic and  _ nice. _ Normal. Bitty, being in a normal relationship. With this patient, wonderful man who liked him for  _ him. _ It was all Bitty ever wanted.

Well. Almost.

“Jack?”

Jack, whose head is in Bitty’s lap, shifts a little and looks up at him. He smiles. “Yeah?”

“I, well, there’s something I’ve been thinkin’ about a lot lately. And I wanted to, um, run it by you.”

“Okay.” Jack sits up, his attention squarely on Bitty. 

It makes Bitty blush hotly, but he pushes on. “Sex,” he blurts out. “I...I’m not ready to, um, to have you, um--”

Jack’s brow furrows. “Have I--have I made you feel like--” 

“No, no!” Bitty holds up his hands. “Of course not, sweetie. You’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

Jack nods, but he still looks a little upset.

“I mean it, honey.” Bitty strokes a hand over Jack’s cheek, who shudders, breathing out. “You’ve been wonderful. And--and that’s what I’m trying to get at.”

“Okay.”

“I’d like to try...I’d like to try making you feel good.”

Jack swallows. “Bits,” he whispers, eyes wide. “That’s--are you--”

“Well and truly sure, I promise. I don’t think I’m um, ready for anything to be  _ reciprocated _ really, but if...if it’s okay with you, I really wanna try some things  _ with _ you.”

“Whatever you want,” Jack says immediately. “We can try whatever you want.”

Bitty smiles. “Okay.”

 

-

 

Jack is a little clingier than usual, once they’re done getting ready for bed, and Bitty is happy to open up for kisses, to curl around Jack’s back and hold him as they drift off to sleep.

It makes Bitty warm all over, the memories of before, how Jack had looked, sounded, losing control. How he’d breathed Bitty’s name.

 

-

 

Bitty can barely believe his ears, and his first instinct is to gasp. “Moomaw! Are you sure?”

Moomaw raises an eyebrow. “Child, if you think for one damn fool minute that I’m not coming out to see you compete, you’ve got another think coming.”

Bitty tries not to gape. “Yes, yes, of course, um, okay I--I can buy your ticket and find you a hotel--”

Moomaw sniffs. “Katya put me in touch with your friend Jack. He’s already helping a poor ol’ lady out.” She grins at him. “We have rooms in the same hotel. And he’s picking me up from the  airport. We’re gonna carpool to the competition.”

“I...you...what?” Bitty’s sure his eyes are wide as saucers. “Jack what?” he squeaks.

“He’s a nice young man,” Moomaw continues, as if Bitty hasn’t said a word. “Tried to insist on buying my ticket and the hotel room. I set him straight of course, but it certainly was nice of him to offer.” She looks at him over the top of her glasses. “Now, competition aside, was there something else you wanted to tell me, boy?”

_ Boy. _ She’s started slipping that into conversation, in the same way she used to with ‘girl.’ It makes it hurt to breathe, sometimes, how grateful he is for Moomaw. “I--tell you?”

She sighs. “Never you mind. Now did you want the recipe for my new crumble, or didn’t you?”

Moomaw’s recipes are not to be taken lightly. Bitty scrambles for his pen and recipe book, conversation tabled but not forgotten.

 

-

 

As usually happens during competition season, Bitty gets approached. He hadn’t even thought that it might happen this year because, well, he’s a touch different regarding representation. Had been worried a little bit about money, truth be told, because between the new semester and Katya’s training, the latter of which he hadn’t budgeted for, he’d been coming up on his savings fast. 

But maybe his brand of new representation is a good thing after all, because a few different companies ask him about commercials and by this time he’s an old hat at navigating contracts (though Shitty insists on helping). 

So. Money becomes a non-issue again, at least for a few months. He’s got a clause in his contract with Dunham’s that gets extended, with bonuses, if he places in regionals and moves on to sectionals. There’s already been noise from both General Mills and Under Armor about the coming Olympic games. It’s all just speculation of course, but Twitter never stops being abuzz with that. He doesn’t dwell on it. Things are good for now, which is all that matters.

And then it’s the end of September, and he and Katya are getting on a plane.

 

-

 

“What are y’all  _ doing here?” _ Bitty gasps, when Jack, Shitty, Lardo, Ransom  _ and Holster _ greet him at the competition. 

“Surprise, brah!” Shitty says, sweeping Bitty up into a hug. “Jack sprung for tickets and shit, and I am not too proud a man to turn those down when it comes to supporting one of my bosom buddies.”

“I--you--” he turns to Ransom, Holster, and Lardo. “Is  _ this _ what all that giggling behind my back was about?” he demands.

Lardo grins. “Hey. Go win and junk.”

“Moomaw’s saving our seats,” Jack says. “She said something about not messing with your concentration before the show? But she wanted to tell you that she was rooting for you.”

Bitty blinks back tears. Rubs vigorously at his eyes. 

Katya rolls hers. “Yes, yes, very nice you’re all here. Jack, you keep them under control. Eric must warm up.”

Bitty hugs every single one of them before he plugs in his pregame playlist and goes with her to get his skates on.

 

-

 

He takes a deep breath. Scans the crowd and sees his little group, Shitty, Ransom, and Holster looking frankly ridiculous while they wave homemade signs. _There’s a boy,_ _Bittle!_ Surprisingly, they’re not the only one with _Bittle_ signs. There are a few others, scattered here and there.

Moomaw is sitting next to Jack, and even with the distance, Bitty can tell she’s amused. 

Bitty is so lucky to have this. So lucky and proud to be able to call them his family. He wipes at his eyes again. Gets on his game face.

Steps onto the ice.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys. I did it. We did it. I hope you loved it as much as I did.

There’s a special kind of place Bitty’s mind always goes to when he’s on the ice for a competition. There’s the concentration and noise and rush and roar and the music and the moves and it’s all wrapped up in exhilaration.

When he’s done, breathing hard, whole body shaking because _he did it, he competed, men’s division, he did it_ he has to blink to get himself centered enough to stand up again. To watch as people throw flowers and stuffed toys onto the ice.

Mind numb, he skates off to Katya and to the Kiss and Cry.

 

-

 

Pewter.

 

-

 

There’s a lot of screaming and crying and hugs, and Bitty might nearly buckle under the combined weight of Shitty, Ransom, and Holster, as Katya clucks her tongue in what might be approval and Lardo, Jack, and Moomaw stand off the the side.

Jack is right there, beaming proudly, but Bitty turns to Moomaw first.

“Boy,” she says, and he thrills at it, will keep thrilling at it for as long as he lives, _look, look at what I did, look at how I did it, I was me. Me!_ “That was a brave, beautiful thing you did. Keep doing it.”

He hugs her and she hugs back. She pats him on the shoulder and kisses his wet cheek and then pushes him in gently Jack’s direction, who hugs tighter and just a smidgen warmer.

“I’m proud of you,” he says.

Bitty’s proud of himself too.

“Good,” Katya says. “Pewter is a good start for being back in competition. You placed. Sectionals you will be better and place higher.”

 

-

 

He gets pulled aside soon after the mini-celebration, by a news crew covering the event. Regionals don’t get a whole lot of press, but local stations usually do something. This crew, however, looks like more than just the local PBS.

“Do you mind if we ask you some questions, Mr. Bittle?”

 _Mr. Bittle. By a news crew. At a skating competition._ “Why sure!”

“You’ve been in the skating circuit a while now, but this is your first time competing in over a year. How does that feel?”

“Amazing. I honestly never really expected to be back here. But my trainer, Katya, refused to give up on me and, well. It’s amazing.”

“Why didn’t you expect to compete again?”

Bitty’s heart pounds in his chest. But he’s no stranger to the spotlight, and this is a pretty damn important spotlight. “Well.” He clears his throat. “Well I’m sure you’re aware that I’m trans. That is to say, I’m a trans man; I’m a boy. When I previously competed, it was when I was, well, in hiding, pretty much. Presenting as a girl because it was all I was able to do at the time. Getting permission to skate competitively after finally being able to be out about being male was a big deal to me. Aside from that, I had to learn new skating techniques to compete with the other boys.”

“What techniques?”

It’s okay. It’s okay. “Quads mostly. I’m sure you noticed that I only had the one in my program.”

“You skated beautifully though; which helped make up those points.”

“Why thank you!”

“Going back to the last question, how do you think being trans in this field has helped or hindered you?”

“Uh,” the question takes him by surprise. _Helped?_ “Mostly it’s hindered. I mean, as I said, I’ve got to get my quads in order to really make a showing, and quads are hard. But that being said, uh...I guess I’m pretty lucky, being built the way I am. I’m pretty lean,” he refuses to say short, he is an _average height_ thank you very much, “but I’m compact and very strong. Which does mean that quads’ll be possible for me if I keep working at them. And, uh, even if it hasn’t really helped me compete per say, being trans… it’s hard. It’s hard no matter what, but being in a sport, in the public eye… that doesn’t make it any easier. _However_ I’ve had so much love in response to coming out. So many people who say they look up to me, who I’m somehow helping by just bein’ me. And I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

She nods and asks a few more questions about his program, his plans to go to sectionals, and some insight on his training routine. _Hockey helps,_ he says, straight-faced, _Though their skates don’t even come with toe picks for goodness sakes._

“Thank you so much for your time, Eric. Do you have any last words of advice to our viewers?”

Bitty nods and looks straight at the camera. “You’re your most important person. Your own happiness should the most important thing you have, and it should be what you strive for. Work towards it, and don’t listen to others who try to stop you. Including yourself.”

 

-

 

His tweets about winning go viral. So does the video someone had taken of his routine. His interview is posted on youtube and his quotes and words are captioned and gif-ed, passed around like potatoes at Thanksgiving.

“I hope I said the right things,” he says anxiously to everyone, as he scrolls through his feed.

“You did the best you could,” Jack says seriously. “That’s what’s important.”

Then Moomaw ‘tuts’ at him for using his phone at the table and Bitty blushes and puts it away. Jack pats his knee under the tablecloth and Ransom and Holster elbow Shitty as Lardo and Katya have a quiet conversation (oh dear) and Bitty lets the day wash over him.

 

-

 

Under Armor approaches him with a sponsorship deal. Bitty can barely believe it.

“I’m not--I’m not even somebody yet! I’ve only done regionals and I only got pewter!”

“Only nothing,” Jack says, frowning on Bitty’s screen. “It was a big deal. It’s a shame though.”

“What’s a shame?”

“That now I can’t support you. I was planning to offer to sponsor you myself.”

“Jack, you ridiculous--” Jack is grinning.

Bitty snorts. “Why do I put up with you.”

“I ask myself that every day. But I’m grateful for it.”

This boy. How does he go from jokes to--to-- “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bits.”

 

-

 

He tries his best to focus on school in between training, but it’s pretty hard. He’s a chronic procrastinator when it comes to studying and he often spends more time baking in the kitchen (or even more time at the rink--the guys joke that he’s turning into Jack) than he does copying over notes and writing essays.

He manages okay in the end, but the closer sectionals come, the less and less school is on his mind and the more--

“Bits,” Lardo says, from where she’s sketching him. She’s doing a project on stillness in motion, so Bitty’s been in a sidesplit for five minutes. “You’ve got to chill out.”

“I can’t! It’s almost Halloween, and then it’s sectionals, and then it’s finals season, and then it’s _winter break_ and--” he stops. This time last year, he was making plans to go home to his family. He...doesn’t actually know what he’s going to do this year.

It’s always going to hurt.

Lardo sighs. “Okay, fine, so you’ve got a lot on your mind. I get it.” Lardo is only a semester and a bit away from graduation herself and it hasn’t been, um, the easiest for her. Bitty tries. He bakes her a lot of her favorites and offers to model when she needs or wants it (like now) and helps with various projects she needs extra hands on. “So let’s focus on something else.”

“Okay?”

“Costumes.”

 

-

 

Jack’s group text reply about Bitty’s puck bunny outfit and his private text response are very, very different things.

 

-

 

“So,” Jack says, over the phone, “I was thinking about Christmas.”

“Okay,” Bitty says. Sectionals are in two weeks, finals are in three, Christmas is in four, and Bitty’s honestly been so wrapped up in skating and school that he almost forgot to feel bad about winter break. He and Moomaw have talked and she asked if he wanted to come down, but in the end he couldn’t make himself say yes. Even if Moomaw is amazing and fantastic and he’d love to see her in person for Christmas, he can’t go to Georgia with things being the way they are. He’ll see her for sectionals though, and she was going to stay for Thanksgiving.

It’s a big ol’ bitten thumb at Bitty’s parents honestly, that she’s doing that.

Either way, Jack has already insisted on putting her up in a hotel and Bitty was going to make a Hausgiving. All the guys promised to be on their best (and cleanest) behavior, and Bitty can’t wait.

But. Christmas.

“Yeah,” Jack says. “I was wondering if, uh, if maybe you wanted to come to spend it with me and my parents?”

“What?”

“I won’t be able to be around for the whole break, but however long you wanted to stay...they already love you. And at least for Christmas itself, I’d--I’d like to be with you. If you wanted.”

Bitty opens and closes his mouth, but no sound comes out.

“Bits? You still there?”

“Yes,” Bitty squeaks. “Yes. I’m here. Also yes, Jack, yes, I’d-I’d love to. But I--what should I bake? Will we be there before Christmas so I can help make the food? What do your parents like? Oh no, Jack, my French is _terrible_ I won’t be able to fit in at all--”

“Your French is a lot better,” Jack says. Followed immediately by, “And they love you. It’ll all be fine. But I’m sure my dad’ll be happy to have you help cook. And neither of my parents really bake much, so if you wanted--”

Bitty gasps, “Of course I’ll bake something. Pies! What are their favorite pies? Cookies? Cake? I have this wonderful snow-dusted sugar cookie recipe--” he goes on, Jack occasionally making little affirmative noises in his ear and

and

He maybe, a bit, starts looking forward to Christmas.

 

-

 

Sectionals week, Bitty is ready. He’s as ready as he’s ever been for anything. He loves his outfit and he loves his routine, Katya and Jack and Moomaw are all there watching him, breathing their love into him too. Jack brought his tablet with him and is going to be live-streaming Bitty’s whole performance for the guys back at home, who promised that they’d be watching and cheering. Dex rigged something up to that Jack’s livestream could be played on the Haus TV.

So much is pounding inside of him, so much good that he’s ready to burst. No matter what happens, he and Jack and Moomaw and Katya are going to go out to eat together, and then they’re all going to go back to their respective rooms in their hotel, where only three are reserved.

Bitty’s going to spend the night with Jack, and they’ll all fly home together the next day. And then it’s getting ready for Hausgiving. The guys already promises that they’d be getting a head start on cleaning and that “You’ll come home to a Haus so clean you could eat off the floor, Bitty!!”

Then it’s finals, and Bitty will do his darndest to keep on top of things and make slightly less than thirty-six pies this time. He has something to work towards; he wants to tell Jack he did well, be able to talk about things with Moomaw. And, for Christmas, have something extra to be proud of if the Zimmermann’s ask.

Christmas.

Bitty is going to spend it with family. Because Jack is his family, and Jack (and his parents, thanks to skype calls) has made it clear that Bitty is part of that. That he belongs. Bitty might be spending the last few days of break by himself in the Haus, but he’s not too worried about it. He’ll give it a good cleaning (because by then, it’ll need it again) and prep for a welcome-back feast for the guys, and maybe even start some of the reading for his classes (ha).

He’ll also be skating. Regardless of how he does in sectionals, he’ll be skating. He could always stand to be better. And he’s got something to be better _for_ now. Several different rinks have reached out to him for coaching once he’s done with school, offered him jobs during the summer if he’s interested. He...he has a future. In skating, he has one, and he never thought...

Twitter loves him. So does youtube. He’s started earning revenue on his public skating channel. The other one he keeps private. He’s had to unlist some videos where he talks about Jack, just because they’re seen around so much what with them both being in the public eye. But they’re talking about that too.

Speaking of… Bitty knows that Moomaw already suspects, but he plans to tell her about Jack. Quietly, after dinner, and he isn’t even nervous. Well he is, a little, because he’ll always be nervous but he knows--he _knows_ that she’ll be nothing but happy for him. Nothing but happy and accepting, like she’s always been.

All of it, _all_ of it, it’s been so much. His life and who he gets to be. Who he’s grown into, is still growing into. Who he is now.

And he deserves it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [justwritins](http://justwritins.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and I'm total Check, Please trash right now. Come say hi!  
> 


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